What We Never Expected
by EmmieRoo
Summary: "There was someone down there, someone lying on the damp sand next to the creek. Someone that was bleeding, she could see an arrow sticking from his abdomen." Daryl's search for Sophia takes a turn for the worst when he's thrown off a horse. He is found and saved from Walkers by a woman, much to his chagrin, and agrees to let her help him out. DarylxOC, eventually. Enjoy and review
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own anything to do with AMC's The Walking Dead. I do own my made up characters. Enjoy. **

**Go easy on me please :3 Enjoy.**

**- EmmieRoo**

_Say My Name_

Quiet. Tip-toe, light steps. The dirt stirred beneath her feet; not a leaf crunched or twig snapped. She had hunted before, a few times back at the farm with her father. Mainly small critters: rabbits, squirrels. Here was the big game; the hunt her father never let her attempt. Too dangerous, too hard to track, who knew? She couldn't ask him why he wouldn't let her do it, just like a lot of other things he didn't let her do, so pondering would do nothing. Here she was now, in the present, fighting day to day for her next meal, with the game at the end of her fingertips. A buck; she'd been tracking it for a few days now. So many times she'd almost had it, ready to make the shot, ready to take it home so she could feed herself for, hell, probably close to a week.

It would go far, the buck. She never ate much; she couldn't afford to on a day to day basis – just enough to get her by. Plus she was by herself.

Her stomach twisted slightly; not from the hunger pains. She ignored it. No time for distractions.

The buck's tracks became random, huddled and almost frantic, a cluster of disturbed soil and torn up roots. There was a metallic smell in the air mixed with a well known, not at all comforting stench that offended her nostrils. Had to be quick or the buck wouldn't be the only meal for _them. _

She slung her crossbow over her shoulder and turned to head back home, until she heard a horse's frantic cries. Stray? No, there couldn't be. Not out here. With a hand on the machete strapped to her waist she made a beeline towards the horse.

Who's out there? What do they... Am I prepared? What if there's more than one?

She swallowed her questions. _No_ distractions. It was really none of her business; who it was, what happened or what they wanted. She was fine by herself – coping. She can live without much food; she always had. Oldest of six can get a bit tough. It's not like she could just leave; next oldest was eight years younger and barely knew the ropes. How cruel life can be. Someone had to be there for the pups; to teach them how to track, use a weapon to hunt, skin what they kill – teach them what her father had taught her to do so long ago. All someone had to do was teach the kid how to protect kin and look out for them. She was just about to do it herself before it all went to shit.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw it. One of _them_, staggering towards the noise and too distracted through tunnel vision to notice her walk straight up to it, machete held tight in her right hand as she buried deep in the back of its head. Blood spurted everywhere; her face screwed up at the sight of her messed up vest. She held tight to her blood-soaked weapon and headed down that thing's intended path with slow, quiet steps.

The Georgian heat was ridiculous today, like normal it was hot, but that day seemed hotter than the rest. It didn't matter that she was in and out of the shade of the trees that towered over her, sweat fell in small beads down her neck and made her back feel sticky. Wearing gear didn't help. It's not like it mattered; don't have to worry about looks anymore. But as far as she was concerned, she was the most attractive thing alive. Grime, blood, sweat and all.

A small grin tweaked at the corner of her lip.

The terrain dipped – a sharp and deep fall, nasty for anyone who lost their footing or got distracted – to reveal a small creek that ended in a pool of murky water. There was someone down there, someone lying on the damp sand next to the creek. Someone that was bleeding, she could see an arrow sticking from his abdomen.

Fuck. _They _will be attracted to the smell of his blood. He's as good as gone.

But she couldn't ignore it; she couldn't do nothing. If he wasn't hurt, if he just got back up, brushed himself off and went on his merry way back to wherever the hell her came from, she'd be okay. She could let him do it without feeling bad if she spotted him again craving human flesh. She wouldn't feel guilty – he made that choice, not her. She wanted him to wake up so he could sort out what he'd gotten himself into by his lonesome. She could just turn around and walk away. She shouldn't have to babysit a stranger.

He didn't move. Damn her morals. She kicked the dirt and cursed.

She found a way down to him that wouldn't have compromised her health and made her way over to him, her boots sinking slightly in the damp sand. He was breathing. Laboured breaths albeit, but breathing nonetheless. His tracks indicated that he'd dragged himself over to where he currently lay unconscious. He'd slipped and fallen into a sort of waterfall and then into the water. Somewhere along the way, he stuck himself with his own arrow. Bravo. It sure does take talent to do. There was a crossbow a foot out of his reach, no arrows except the one protruding from his abdomen. Not a fatal injury, serious enough that it would need stitches and he'd need some pain killers, but not serious enough to lose sleep over. She'd seen worse. Much worse.

She scanned his body for bites or scratches. None as far as she could see while he was still clothed, and there was no patches of fresh blood on his body, save the result from his accident. In reality, she couldn't do anything to help him until he woke up; the only thing she could think of was keeping _them_ from feasting on him. She'd do it because of her stupid, stinking morals. They weren't very good morals, she acknowledged that, but she had to do what she could to survive. Sitting next to this guy, waiting for _them_ to come – it wasn't exactly the way she wanted to spend her day.

What about when he woke up? Was he going to have enough strength to climb the way she'd come? It wasn't too much trouble to come down, but it was an odd angle to climb back up. She wouldn't be able to carry him. Fuck. What had she gotten herself into?

She scanned his body. He'd ripped the sleeves off his brown flannelette shirt and tied it around the arrow. The bleeding had stopped somewhat, a cut on his temple had oozed now-dry blood down the right side of his face, which was also covered in dry sweat and dirt. His short brown hair was the same.

He stirred slightly, his lashes flickering. He moved his head, his eyes open, but not focused. He smiled after a spell and let out a small amused grunt.

"Merle... Shitty day, bro."

She looked at him, confusion covering every inch of her expression as she slowly got up from next to him. He might flail and panic if he woke up and saw her with a few weapons.

"Screw you."

Well that's not very nice.

He swallowed, his eyes shut again, trying to breath in the disgusting heat.

"Girl..." he frowned, swallowed again. "They lost a little girl."

A little girl. That must be why he was out here on his lonesome. Little girl's gone mission; Boy Wonder steps up and plays hero. Look at where that got you, champ.

"Shut up."

She smirked.

"Tried like hell to find you, bro."

He lost a little girl and his brother? That's rough. She frowned as he raised his eyebrows, his expression filled with pain.

"You lit out. All you had to do was wait."

Her attention snapped to a rustle in the bushes across the creek. She put a hand on her machete, her fingers drumming at the side of her waist.

"I ain't nobody's bitch." He muttered.

One of _them_ emerged from behind a bush on the other side of the creek, stumbling as it came down the hill. Her frown deepened as she drew a carving knife from her thigh holster. Not like she was using soon. As the walker approached her, pale grey eyes with a dash of cannibal-crazy fixated on her, arms out, reaching for its next meal, the body behind her groaned and shifted. She quickly checked on him, his blue eyes clearly seeing that _thing_ heading their way and panicked, pulling his body towards his weapon.

Two steps forward; she plunged the knife through its eye. It immediately fell to the ground to become a heavy sack of dead-for-good. Easy done. On their own, they're virtually harmless – if you have the right gear and know how to use it.

The man behind her started breathing heavily and moving; he was definitely conscious now. Frantic, panicked noises escaped his lips and she turned. Another one of _them_ heading straight for him as he ripped the arrow out of his abdomen, as if it was life or death. It wasn't really; she just drove her knife into the side of its head. Her blade sunk right in, she could feel the _thing's _skull touching her knuckle. Body count was at two. Child's play. She looked for more coming in the direction it gracefully staggered from. There lay the buck she'd been tracking, just amongst some shrubs, ripped to pieces, guts out in the open and half gnawed on.

Annoyed, she kicked the _thing._

"Fucker ate my fucking game."

He must not have registered her existence until that moment, his eyes darting back and forth from her eyes to the _thing_ and back up to her.

"Come on," she said with a sigh, "we have to get you cleaned up."

But he simply stared at her, his once laboured breath becoming even and paced. His hard face was set as a cold scowl.

She made an annoyed noise and brushed her fringe out of her face with her clean hand. "I need to clean and stitch your wound or it'll get infected."

He still said nothing and scowled as her before ripping the rest of his flannelette shirt, bunching it into a ball and pushing it against the hole in his side. He frowned as he tied it up with the sleeve.

She groaned as his stubborn attitude. "Let me help you. You need medical attention."

"I'm fine," he growled and attempted to bring himself to his feet, ashamed when he staggered back to the rocks he was sitting on. "I don't need help from no girl." He was angry that he'd been saved from potential death by a girl. She put her hands on her hips. Oh, no he didn't.

"A _woman_ just saved your ass. There were three of those things coming your way at the same time I was; one on the way here and two I killed just now. Cost me my game and a week's worth of food to save your ass from those _things. _If anything, you owe me. So do me a favour and stop being a little bitch and let me help you."

He grunted at her, conceding.

Her temperament lightened, "thank you."

He snorted, looking at his crossbow. She stepped over and scooped it up, handing it back to him in one movement. He set it up, pulling the bowstring back and setting the lone arrow in place. She waited for him to point it at her, like anyone else would do if their chance of survival was compromised – or if the whole situation made them a little crazy. But he didn't. He slung it over his shoulder and grunted as he lifted himself to his feet, awkwardly bending so his arm supported him the whole way until he was completely upright.

His piercing blue eyes met hers questioningly.

"I'm hauled up at my farm, 'bout a mile South West from here. I have the equipment necessary for stitching your wound. We can climb out of here from–"

"Why you helpin' me?"

The question didn't surprise her in the slightest.

"Honestly, I don't know. But if I hadn't, you wouldn't be as alive as you are now."

He grunted. "I'm fine on my own."

She nodded to his makeshift bandage, soaked in fresh blood, raising an eyebrow. "Sure don't seem that way."

"You don't know nothin', girl."

"Look," she sighed, digging into her pockets. She unscrewed the white cap off a small orange container she'd managed to steal from a pharmacy and poured two small white pills into her clean hand. She always had some on her, just in case. "Take these pain killers. Strong shit."

He plucked them from her palm and took the water bottle she offered him. He downed the pills instantly.

She snickered, a small smile tugging at her lips. She raised a hand to cover her eyes, but squinted anyway when she looked up at the sky. "When they kick in it'll be easier to climb. We've still got a bit of light; won't take too long to get back. I'm asking you now to not be a pain in my ass and just stay for the night. Just one night so you can be fit to fly tomorrow. I don't want my saving your ass to be a waste of time."

He grunted, handing back the bottle of water and she rolled her eyes. "Come on."


	2. Chapter 2

**I do not own anything to do with AMC's The Walking Dead. I do own my made up characters. Enjoy. **

**BlackRose851: That looks like a good sign. :3 Thank you very much for your review. **

**And thank you to everyone who has followed and favourited my story; it really means a lot to me. I'll try to update as regularly as possible.**

_I Like It_

The walk back to the farm was silent, harmless. A few of those _things_ on the way; maybe two or three. Despite the arrow hole through his side, he managed to dig a knife into a _thing's _head. She was impressed with his stubborn attitude. She had told him that she could and would handle any of those _things_ that came near them. He had ignored her and silently protested as he held his crossbow, scanning the terrain as he hobbled along behind her. He'd shot the first _thing_ that he'd seen. Right between the eyes – a very good shot – he was clearly an experienced hunter. She admired that. Hunters knew how to look after themselves. She figured he was like her: better on her own. That's why she wasn't surprised when he asked her why she helped him.

The desolate farmhouse came into view from a break in the bushes. Not one of those _things_ to be seen. She smiled slightly. Her home remained untouched for another day. It was a relief. She approached the active fence and used a stick to carefully push some wires upwards for a decent gap to get through.

He shot her a look that resembled his usual scowl but with something more, possibly a hint of caution, as he slung his crossbow over his should and ducked through the fence. He held it up for her as she did the same and happily made a beeline for her front door. They only had a few minutes of light left in the day before they had to retire for the evening. They'd gotten back at a good time.

She leapt up to the veranda, skipping the first and third step and continued inside. She didn't wait for him. She had already set her mind to finding what she needed to stitch his wounds. He trudged to her door, slowly and carefully surveying the area for danger. When he was satisfied he entered her home, twisting the doorknob as he pulled it closed, releasing it for a quiet click. Couldn't risk being detected.

She had found everything she needed, basic surgical steel needle and thread. It was the only thing she managed to find at her supply run to the hospital before it was overrun that she hoped she would never have to use. Loads of pain killers, sleeping pills, marijuana and prescription drugs for anxiety and depression. They'd be good for a buzz – she wanted to try them one day.

He made his way through the small hall and into the living area, which served as a kitchen and dining room. The interior looked almost as good as the exterior. Photo frames were taken from the wall; only their hooks remained. There were stacks of food organised on the kitchen bench, all unopened cans of fruit and fish. He watched her reaching for something above the stove in a cupboard a bit too high up. A bottle, he couldn't read the label, but it was either empty or filled with clear liquid. She gave up with a small sigh and settled for the glass on the shelf below.

"Take this," She held out one more pain killers for him, slightly weaker than the others, which he accepted silently and obediently, "lay on the couch and I'll get started."

He didn't acknowledge her orders, rather just looked into her hazel eyes for a split second before he did as she asked. She came over with a metal tray and began her work, lifting his shirt far enough that she could see what she was dealing with, but not far enough to make him uncomfortable. They shared a bearable silence as she threaded the needle through his skin. She checked his expression as she did it. He didn't wince or bitch or complain. He quietly lay on his side, his arms folded awkwardly, shifting his attention from one thing to another.

"What's your name?" She asked, concentrating now on the end of her work. His eyes looked up at hers expectantly. She saw through her peripherals. "I'm Grace Dwyer."

There it was. He finally knew.

"Daryl," he muttered, looking away from her again, "Daryl Dixon."

Grace smiled. She didn't think he'd tell her.

"Well, Daryl Dixon, I'm just about done." She finished the stitch and put the blooded needle on the tray, removing her slightly bloodied rubber gloves. She gave him two more pills and disposed of the equipment she'd used, hoping that she'd never need to do that again. One of the drawbacks of being alone is that no one can help you if you need medical attention. If she had Daryl's injury, she would be able to stitch the front of it up, but she'd need another pair of hands for the back.

Grace scooped up what she'd grabbed from the shelf and unscrewed the black cap off the neck and took a few deep mouthfuls. It warmed her throat and she cringed at the after taste. She brought it down to Daryl, who had sat up and stared at the square shaped bottle in her hand.

"You gonna share that, girl?" He asked, his scowl lightening into a half grin.

She shared his expression and handed the bottle of whiskey to him, even though she knew that pain killers and alcohol were a bad mix – he probably already knew that. His choice; not hers. Maybe nothing bad would happen since it had been a while since he took them. "I'll fix us some dinner. A lot of canned stuff; got some squirrel I killed yesterday. I _was_ going to treat myself to some venison but one of those fuckers got to it." She sighed and ran a hand through her long brown hair. Squirrel will do; she always had some ready. Not her favourite meal, but it was good enough to get the two of them by. She also had copious amounts of alcohol and drugs. They got her by too. Sure, there was enough food in the house to last her a month, maybe two. But some nights she didn't get hungry. Some nights she got distracted and remembered. Those nights she always turned to her liquid friends, Jim and Jack, the only friends she had left. Her beautiful and kind friends kept her warm at night, helped her survive another day of being alone. She loved the way they made her feel. All... floaty and dizzy. Almost made her forget. Almost. But she always woke up in the morning feeling worse than she did the night before – even more alone. She hated being alone but she worked better that way and she knew it.

Grace decided against squirrel. She didn't feel like making the effort anymore. "Canned food okay? I'm a little tired." She lied.

"Anything is good."

She had someone, for tonight at least. Even if he barely spoke and his face was a permanent frown. Grace appreciated Daryl's company more and more with each minute that passed, even if they ticked away in silence. It was good to know she wasn't completely alone. There were other people who were alive and she'd found one of them. It made her heart ache.

Grace had settled for making sandwiches. She managed to score two day old bread – she kept that detail to herself – that morning which was technically still good and fresh canned tuna. The bread was a little too hard, but people like Daryl wouldn't take that into account. People like Daryl had to get by every day any way they knew how, if it meant eating slightly stale bread, it didn't bother them in the slightest. They ate at the dining table in a comfortable silence, sharing Grace's friend Jack between the two of them, sliding it along the wooden surface. The alcohol seemed to fill her stomach more than the sandwich – she wished she'd made more – and it was starting to go to her head. She closed her eyes for what seemed like a millennium.

She heard Daryl mumble something, and she opened her eyes to look at him.

"What?"

"I said you're a light weight." He half grinned, looking at her from under his lashes, his gaze penetrating hers. She then rolled hers and took his plate to the sink.

"Feel free to have anything else to eat and drink, or a shower. Got too much booze and hot water for one person." Her eyes fell to her boots, covered in dry dirt and blood.

_One person. _

Grace went to the cupboard again, this time bringing good ol' Jim down from the podium. Plenty more where that came from. She unscrewed the cap and held Jim towards Jack. Daryl grunted as the two glass bottles clinked together and welcomed the last mouthful of Jack. Grace had a few good mouthfuls before handing it to Daryl. It all came back. She needed a distraction.

Grace gathered a towel, placing it in front of Daryl and quickly disappearing through the bedroom door, feeling Daryl's curious eyes watching her the whole time.

Grace looked at herself in the mirror behind the door. Bloodied, dirty combat boots were tied to her feet; she'd managed to find them one day when she was on a supply run. One house per day for anything she thought she might need. Nothing fancy covered her thin legs, just a plain, dirty pair of worn jeans that didn't seem so tight anymore after the first few weeks of having no food. She hadn't managed or even wanted to put the weight back on. They were her best fitting pair and she could move well in them. A hunting vest covered her chest, it was covered in blood. She didn't even know who the blood belonged to. Her mind was starting to get a little fuzzy. She liked that. Her face was dirty, thick sweat had managed to stick dirt and whatever else to her skin. Her long brown hair was tied into a messy ponytail; bits of her fringe fell out and hung in front of her blurry hazel eyes.

The night went by in glimpses.

Walked back out to where Daryl still sat, thinking quietly with the bottle in his hand, his head down. She'd swiped it from him and took a mouthful. Bad aftertaste. He'd stared.

Pressed a wet cloth to her face and scrubbed herself clean. She insisted on doing the same for Daryl. He hadn't protested.

Gently dabbed a vodka soaked cloth on the cut at his temple. He'd noticed her concentration, her hand shaking as she softly touched the cut he'd forgotten about. He noticed how her lips parted slightly when she concentrated. It happened when she was stitching him up and making the sandwiches – she thought he was off in his own world when really he was carefully studying his host.

Brushed her hair, removing knots until it was soft.

Knew Daryl was watching, even though she had her back to him, and downed an unknown pill.

Rested her eyes, just for a second.

Floating. She liked that feeling. She liked it a lot.


	3. Chapter 3

**I do not own anything to do with AMC's The Walking Dead. I do own my made up characters. Enjoy. **

**BlackRose851: Thank you very much! **

**FanFicGirl10: Thank you for the review; I'm glad to see you're enjoying it so far! Who knows what will happen? Oooohhhhhh! And I know; I could never bring myself to kill Daryl off – I hope AMC doesn't either. Here's the next chapter. I hope you enjoy, thank you for the follow and favourite. :D**

**Again, a big thank you to those who are following and have favourited – it means the world. **

_Child_

"Feel free to have anything else to eat and drink, or a shower. Got too much booze and hot water for one person."

Daryl watched Grace slowly unravel into a state of self destruction as she looked down at the floor. She'd gone back to the cupboard quickly, fetching another drink, which she held towards the bottle of Jack in his hand. He grunted, and reluctantly held the bottle out. They clinked together and he watched Grace as she slammed down a few hefty mouthfuls of alcohol as he slowly finished the last mouthful of Jack.

Girl didn't know how to handle her alcohol properly. Great. She handed her bottle to him and disappeared for a spell, reappearing with a carefully folded, spotless white towel. He watched her as she placed it in front of him and disappeared again through a short hall with no door into a bedroom. She hadn't even thought to tell him where the bathroom was – not that he was able to have a shower anyway, with the fresh stitches. Maybe that fact slipped her mind after the third mouthful.

Daryl sat back, the dining chair slightly groaning against his weight. He frowned. He had to get back. He had to keep looking for Sophia. He had to find her – convinced himself that he would. But he couldn't just leave Grace here by herself, who knew what she'd do to herself. Whether it was just the alcohol making her act this way or she was genuinely unstable, Daryl didn't know. But she could hurt her, and he owed her. She'd saved him – much to his chagrin – from a Walker, welcomed him into her home, stitched him back together, fed him and offered him a place to bunk down for the night.

His frown held as he watched the small flame of the candle burn away. She must have set it up when she had started on his stitches, knowing that they'd lose light soon. It was bright enough that Daryl could see everything, but not too bright that any Walkers would notice. His gaze had shifted from the candle to Grace when she was making food. That's when he'd noticed it. Girl can be sneaky. Not now she ain't – it could get her killed. He hung his head and sighed, annoyed at the position she put him in.

He heard Grace before he saw her, swiping the bottle out of his hands before he could even look up. He watched her face scrunch up, making a "bleh" noise as she moved on to her next attempt to keep herself busy. She was peeking, he could see it. He smirked. Girl _definitely _couldn't handle her alcohol.

She came back after a few minutes, holding two cloths. One was dirty – she disposed of it – and the other was wet with something. Grace sat down in the chair to his right and he watched her through the corner of her eye, her hand shaking as she raised it to his face. He'd all but forgotten about the cut at his temple. It wasn't too bad, so he didn't need to worry about it. He didn't think she needed to either, but he let her clean it. She dabbed and gently wiped around it, cleaning the blood, slightly chapped lips parting in concentration. He could smell the vodka, but only after he felt the stinging sensation.

Disposed of that cloth too. Her moves were getting random, or seemed that way at least, as he noticed that she'd managed to find a brush and combed her mess of a hair until it fell neatly, just past her breastbone. It looked soft. She had made her way to the kitchen, fiddling around in another cupboard at her feet. He noticed a small orange, cylindrical container with a white cap – and her eyes on his – as she her back and tipped her head back as she swallowed something, letting out a dry, deep breath. She then found her way to the couch. Daryl waited a few minutes. She didn't get up for a while.

Shit.

He rose quickly and found her still there in a quiet, deep slumber. He sighed, frowning. The couch was really uncomfortable, she couldn't stay on it all night. He got on his knees and scooped her up, ignoring the pulling pain in his side. He carried her easily – she was very skinny – into the bedroom she'd spent some time in before she started acting all weird. He dropped her onto the bed, knowing she wouldn't feel it, and rolled her onto her side. Just in case the pills she took and the alcohol decided to have a disagreement later.

He shook his head and muttered a curse. Damn girl making him a babysitter. He remembered the way her eyes had sort of glazed over when she spoke to him last – she'd looked to the floor and that was the end of it. He left her room and found what she'd taken. Sleeping pills for insomnia. Daryl had mixed alcohol and sleeping pills many times in his previous life – his life that hadn't included killing Walkers, running from place to place and finding lost little girls – and he was still kicking. He decided that she'd be fine and wouldn't be going anywhere any time soon. But he still couldn't leave. It had gotten dark, the one candle on the dining table seeming to light the whole room, and his body began to ache, pain ebbing in his head and abdomen. Where are those fucking pain killers?

Daryl made his way around her kitchen, digging and rummaging through the cupboard she'd grabbed the sleeping pills from. Containers upon containers of pills in one cupboard, organised by type, their labels facing towards him. Sleeping pills, drugs for anxiety, drugs for depression, small unlabelled containers with a familiar green substance inside – he smirked – and, finally, pain killers. He grabbed the first one he saw and downed two, not bothering to put the container away.

He wouldn't have trouble sleeping tonight. He would never admit it, but he was mentally, physically and emotionally exhausted. How many days had they been looking for Sophia now? It seemed like months. It was always the same deal: find tracks and follow them to a dead end. He'd had enough of it. One lead, he just wanted one good lead so he could find the little girl. He was sick of having to return to camp empty handed. He was sick of the looks people were giving him and Rick, or how they looked away in pain and disgust when they heard the news, as if it was their fault because they couldn't find her. It wasn't their fault at all. If the damn girl had just waited a little longer, waited for someone to give the okay, she would still be at the camp. If she'd just waited for Rick to come back and get her after he'd taken down the Walkers, she would still be at the camp, running around playing with Carl. And everyone would be happy, because the damn girl wouldn't be missing.

He picked up the container and threw it at the wall. The pills inside rattled against the plastic and spilled over the floor as it collided with the wall. He frowned deeply and held his side.

Fuck it all. He was in no position to leave her here – as much as he wanted to. He could stay for the night, get some rest, make sure she didn't kill herself from her pill consumption – he owed her that much, at least.

It didn't feel quite right, but he looked around the house. Not for anything in particular, just because it was a good opportunity to do so. He didn't have to go far to find something that caught his interest.

A few photo frames, all turned down on a cabinet against the wall. Discarded hooks looked odd and out of place. He looked at the picture in the first frame he grabbed. Six children: four boys and two girls – it was easy to pick Grace out of the bunch. Standing in front of the house, on a bright sunny day, the children – the next oldest from Grace, a young boy, looked about eight – smiled widely, a few teeth missing here and there from each sibling. The parents stood on either side of the bunch of children, each sharing a small smile. They ranked from tallest to shortest, the two girls at each end with four boys to fill the middle. The baby in her mother's arms looked away from the camera, a thumb in her mouth nervously. The other five children were blonde, freckled, smiling – teeth missing here and there. Amongst it all was Grace. Her expression was blank, her lips a solid line. Her arms hung at her sides and her loose wavy hair fell in front of her dark eyes, almost covering them. She looked lifeless and far too mature for her age. Something or someone had sucked the youth out of this girl of fifteen, maybe sixteen. The man in the photo, her father, Daryl suspected, rested an old, calloused hand on young Grace's shoulder.

Daryl's usual scowl deepened.

He rested the frame the same way he'd found it and moved to the one next to it. His eyes widened slightly; he checked the rest of the frames. They were all similar, if not the exact same:

_Grace Dwyer 1 year_

_Grace Dwyer 5 years_

_Grace Dwyer 8 years_

_Grace Dwyer 12 years_

Photos of the same little girl as she grew up, her name and age printed in the corner. In the first photo, one year old Grace Dwyer was grinning from ear to ear with a birthday cake in front of her, a dirtied bib around her neck, a party hat on her head. Cake was smeared all over her rosy face and hands. Girl was a party animal from the get-go. He noticed a bright look in her eye; the innocence of the youth.

The second was of the little girl and another woman, a different woman from the one in the family photo. She was wearing a floral dress and matching straw hat, crouching down with five years Grace Dwyer on her knee. The woman held a beautiful smile, her dark hair brushed over one side of her shoulder as Grace shied away into the woman's shoulder. They had the same hazel eyes. Her mother? Then who was the lady in the other photo?

Grace Dwyer of eight years was sitting alone, playing with some dolls. She was looking up at the camera, a fake smile pulled at her lips. Her eyes were wide and empty. What happened to this little girl?

Grace Dwyer of twelve years was the most disturbing. Next to the same man in the family photo, she was head to toe in camouflage. She had two streaks of tried mud on each pale cheek. In her left hand she held up a dead squirrel. Her first time hunting with her father? The same hand rested on Grace's shoulder and the same look was on his weasily little face, dressed to match her. Grace looked completely empty, emotionless. Four years later, from a baby faced child to a teenage huntress, the little girl in the other photos was completely gone. She only remained in the photos Daryl had seen and now in his memory. Twelve year old Grace Dwyer looked like an empty shell, her eyes devoid of all compassion. This little girl looked like she was filled with hate. She couldn't still be that way. Could she?

Daryl's scowl didn't disappear as he rested the photos just as he'd done with the first. Whatever had happened to Grace – he knew something had to have happened – she clearly didn't want to remember. She didn't do all that well at hiding when she thought about whatever had happened. He'd remembered her head dropping and visibly seeing her mind unravel and bring back every painful memory she had. He knew that feeling a little too well.

Daryl retired for the night, finding a spot next to Grace. She had rolled over and now faced him. He folded his arms behind his head and sighed, the pain in his side ebbing slightly. He couldn't help but hear Grace's slow and even breaths, and through the corner of his eye noticed her parted lips, long dark lashes and just how at peace she looked. She wouldn't be so peaceful in the morning. He silently made a note to prepare himself as he nodded off to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**I do not own anything to do with AMC's The Walking Dead. I do own my made up characters. Enjoy. **

**BlackRose851: Thank you again.**

**FanFicGirl10: He didn't decide to take her with him; he just decided that he couldn't leave her there by herself and continue to look for Sophia because of the condition she was in. Sorry for the confusion. But maybe that will change :O**

**Much gratitude to those who are following and have favourited! Sorry it's taken me a few days to update; I've been crazy busy.**

_We'll Be Coming Back_

Grace's head was spinning and threatened to break out of her skull. She didn't want to open her eyes from fear that it would make her head throb even harder. She never liked this part. The morning was always the worst. A hot shower usually made it bearable, but Grace's mistake was that she stopped drinking in the first place. As usual, her friends Jim and Jack kept her warm and floaty all night, but failed to prepare her for the crash landing that was the morning. She groaned slightly and something shifted beside her. Her eyes flew open as she almost scrambled off the bed, her whole body aching at the quick movement, before letting out a breath of relief. It was just Daryl. She was terrified that one of those _things_ had managed to find them in there. That would be an interesting day. She would put money on it happening when she was either in a deep, dead sleep or high, out of her clear and sensible frame of mind – past bouts of bad luck often had her head in a negative place.

Grace moved away from the edge of the bed and crossed her legs; cradling her aching head in her hands with a sigh. Daryl shifted again, grunting and rolling onto his back, one arm under his head and the other bushing against Grace's thigh. Her _bare _thigh. She looked down and, to her relief, was not naked. But she lacked most of the items of clothing that she _knew_ she would have fallen asleep in. Her matching blue pair of light blue, polka-dot bra and panties stared at her, filling her throbbing head with question upon question.

How did this happen? Did he..? Did _we.._? No, he wouldn't – would he? Not after saving him. He couldn't. That wouldn't be something someone would do to someone who saved them. Right? He didn't seem like that kind of person. But she didn't have the slightest clue on what he was really like; she met him yesterday and just grunted a lot. Daryl had said his name, asked her to share her drink and called her a light weight; that was about it. But, really, did any of it matter anymore? The world has gone to shit and she was worried about the possibility that Daryl, who was fully clothed and completely exhausted, had...

Grace didn't want to think about it. She couldn't get distracted by something like that, especially not so early in the day. Last night had had quite a large impact on her because she got distracted and she couldn't afford a relapse.

Before she could do anything, she started her morning routine of checking the grounds for those _things_. She grabbed the nearest and cleanest items of clothing she could find: a pair of worn denim shorts and a black singlet. Didn't near her gear in the morning on her rounds; just her weapons and clothes she could move freely in, just in case there was a herd.

It had happened once.

Usually she covered a perimeter from her house: she starts off heading a half mile west, then that again south, east a mile, north, west, you get the gist. She'd started heading south that foggy morning, crossbow in hand, machete strapped to her thigh, vigilant, when she had heard loud scraping of lazy feet on the ground and senseless moaning. It would have been okay, she could have ignored it. But when she diverted from her routine to find the source of the noise, she'd come across the herd, quarter mile south-east from her house, slowly heading west. Although she found it hard to see, she could guess that there were close to twenty of those _things_ all bunched together. They had not seen her or smelt her, thankfully, and kept going on their way. Grace's heart had raced a million miles a second, and as soon as they were out of her sight, she raced back home and locked herself inside. The windows and doors were closed, covered, not a slither of light made its way through. She'd sat on her bed, clutching her crossbow for dear life, her knuckles whiter than snow, and just sobbed until she had fallen asleep. Grace never wanted that to happen again. She'd had some pretty shitty days in her life and, although not at the top, it had made the list.

Regardless of the fact that she'd taken some pain killers before she left, Grace's head throbbed the whole way around in the hot Georgian sun. She hadn't come across any of those _things_, and she didn't want to. It would not have been pleasant to fight off one of _them_ with a hangover. Although it would have been a good chance to practise fighting – the one thing she liked about _them_ is she could beat the shit out of it until the cows came home and perfect her sparring technique (not like _they_ could fight back either) and just shoot _them_ when she was tired or bored – but she didn't feel like her body would comply today. Every step made her ankles and knees ache. There was really no reason as to why her body ached so much. Guess it's not every day that she has to save someone. Could have been a side effect from the sleeping pill. She skimmed over them sometimes, looking out for anything that would seriously affect her. Nothing ever really caught her eye, occasionally she would put a container back down. But that didn't happen too often. She couldn't afford to be picky in the situation she – and every other living person – faced. And she was going to live to see the end of it. If there was an end to it.

She came back around and made her way home. She closed the door behind her and placed her crossbow on the dinner table, cocking her head when she heard the sound of running water. The towel on the dinner table was gone. It stopped just as soon as she'd heard it, so she went to the kitchen for some coffee. It was nice having someone there, she admitted, even if she does prefer to be by herself. It had been a long time since she'd had company.

She sat down at the dinner table with the mug of coffee, accompanied by a bare slice of bread. She always preferred the taste of bread without spreads and never needed much to get her by, but she was willing to cook if Daryl wanted something.

He emerged from the bedroom and sat across from Grace as she bit into the bread, in front of another coffee. He took it in one calloused hand and held it to his face. He closed his eyes and smelt it; Grace saw a half smile tweak at his lip.

"Been a long while since I've had coffee."

"Plenty more if you want it," Grace said with a smile, "hungry? I'll fix you some eggs if you want. Two eggs a day for one person is way more than enough."

"Anything is good."

She remembered he'd said that the night before and smiled at her coffee. "Eggs it is."

He'd grunted in response as Grace got up and made her way to the kitchen.

"You don't have to do this, you know."

She turned around to face him, her brow furrowed slightly. She nodded, "I know."

"So why're you helpin' me then?"

"You weren't exactly in a good enough state to head back to wherever you came from, or keep looking for the little girl."

His eyes widened, then his usual scowl set on his face. Oh shit.

"How the hell do you know about that?" He raised his voice slightly.

"When you were out of it, you started muttering stuff. You sounded like you were talking to someone."

He snickered, looking down at his coffee. "Merle." He shook his head.

"Who's Merle?" She asked, already knowing the answer.

"None of your damn business." He said, shooting her a rotten look. He saw her roll her eyes before getting back to the eggs. He looked back to the photos he'd seen the night before, cute Grace, empty Grace. "Where's your family?"

"So I can't ask about your family, but you can ask about mine?" She shot him a look, thin eyebrow raised, then checked the eggs. "You're a piece of work, Daryl Dixon." She shook her head slightly.

He sighed. He was indebted to her for helping him, so telling her what she wanted to know was the least he could do. "Merle's my big brother."

"And? Where is he?"

"I don't know," He said quietly, staring into his coffee as if it would give him an idea of where he was. He looked up to find Grace staring at him, eyebrows raised inquisitively as if to ask him what the hell he meant by that. "He went with a group to gather supplies in Atlanta," Grace focused on the eggs again and listened quietly, "when they got back, Merle was gone. They had a new guy with them, a cop – a real good guy. They told me that they'd left him there in Atlanta, and Rick – the cop – had handcuffed him to the roof because he was bein' as asshole and they went back to camp and left him to the Walkers."

Walkers. Grace liked that name.

"Rick and me and a few others went back to go get him. All we found was a whole lotta blood, his belt and his right hand."

Grace's eyes widened as she stared at the eggs. She swallowed dryly, her stomach turning. His hand? She recollected herself and focused on the eggs.

"What about the little girl? How old is she?"

"Sophia's twelve. We'd come from the CDC a few days ago, driving on the highway toward Fort Benning. Abandoned cars were all over the road and Dale's RV broke down so we stopped to look for supplies in the cars and wait for it to be repaired. A herd came through so everyone hid," Grace tensed at the idea of a herd. She dished up the eggs. Daryl ate slowly as he continued, "Sophia came out of hidin' too early. There were two Walkers laggin' behind the herd and they spotted her, so she ran off into the forest. She was meant to head back to the highway, but somethin' must've spooked her because she'd run off in another direction. I was out lookin' for her yesterday when you found me." He nodded towards Grace.

She swallowed her eggs. "Do you think you'll find her?" She looked up at him under her lashes.

"I know I will. And she'll be just fine." He folded his arm on the table, digging at his plate, finally finding the time to eat.

Grace looked back down to her eggs. She didn't suggest the highest possibility that she could be dead or a Walker. She was twelve, for Christ sake. It would be a miracle if they found her hiding out somewhere scared for her life. But Grace could tell that it meant a lot to Daryl to find Sophia, so she kept her mouth shut. If she was in Sophia's situation she would be able to look after herself. She was by no means a timid child, not much spooked her. Whether it was the fact that she didn't completely understand the dangers in the world or something else, Grace didn't know. But she did know that she would have found something that could be used as a weapon, maybe a long stick or two, and would head straight back to the highway. She'd try her best to kill or immobilize any Walker that tried to get her and then run. Worst came to worst, she'd find somewhere safe to bunk for the night, probably climb a tree just to be safe. But twelve-year-old Grace wasn't the one missing, she thought dryly. This little girl was born and raised differently. She'd be hungry and scared and lost and not know how to fend for herself. Poor thing.

"Now you."

Grace looked up, snapped out of her thoughts. "What about your family?"

She played with her eggs. "Never had one."

"You're lying. I saw the photos taken down from the walls."

She snickered, annoyed that he'd been prying in her business.

"My dad, Michael Dwyer, was nothing special. Just a man who hunted every day of his life. His dad had taught him how to fight hand-to-hand, and then he taught me. 'A girl should know how to protect herself in case a fella got too friendly'_,_ he'd always said. So by the time I was in middle school I was a fighting machine. I could beat the shit out of you with my eyes closed. I didn't seem to understand the fact that just because I knew how to kick the shit out of someone didn't mean I could do it because they called me a bad name. I was removed from school eventually, too much hassle. Michael took me hunting every day, taught me how to hunt, track, use a weapon. Crossbow was my weapon of choice; I have the one he always used. Not like he needs it anymore. Michael and my mother never got married; I was the bastard child that everyone laughed at. Mom's name was Hope Porter. She was the most beautiful woman I have ever met and I loved her with every bone in my body but... she died when I was eight."

Daryl watched her move the food around her plate. "I'm sorry." She looked up, a small smile on her lips. She admired the look in his eye and his delicate expression. She thought he looked very handsome.

"Why? It wasn't your fault." She looked down again, "I don't even remember how she died. All I remember is going to the funeral and then the next day it was like I had a new mom and a little brother on the way. At that time I didn't know what was going on, but when I was old enough to know what had happened, I had three little brothers who looked up to me. Before all of this happened, I was going to teach Reagan everything I knew. He'd be eighteen by now. I'd moved out when I was eighteen after a fight with Michael. But when I heard about the outbreak, I went to find them, make sure they were okay. But when I got here, they were gone. The house was how it is now, but they were just... gone."

They shared an uncomfortable silence for a few seconds before Grace spoke again. "I came to the conclusion that they were dead and that I'd be alone forever, found Michael's liquor stash and drank myself silly for the first few nights." She stared up at Daryl; she felt emotionally drained and he noticed that. "Now what?"

"Huh?"

"I fix you up, let you stay, we share war stories and then go our separate ways?"

Daryl took a deep breath and folded his arms onto the table. "...don't have to..." He mumbled.

"Don't have to what?"

"You don't have to be alone forever." He said firmly, "Bring some supplies and weapons with you and come back to the farm with me. Lord knows we need more people who can use a weapon. I think you'd be welcomed, especially with all of those meds."

"Whoa whoa whoa," Grace ran her hand through her hair. Daryl's eyes followed her hand, "I have lived on my own for years now and I like it that way. I work better when I'm alone. I don't have to look after other people when I'm alone."

"From what I saw last night, you can barely look after yourself." He snapped coldly, "and besides, if you hate lookin' after people so much, then why didn't you leave me by the creek? Why didn't you let me take my chances at gettin' back to my group?"

She was stumped. But she wouldn't admit it. She frowned, "that was different."

"How is that any different?" He was raising his voice, getting angry.

"I _was_ going to leave you there!" She shouted, "But you weren't moving when I was making my decision. And you were bleeding. And I was so sick of all the dying and people getting eaten so I made the decision to help you."

Daryl took quiet, deep, even breaths in and out through his nose. Calming down. "You can't live here forever, and we need the numbers; we need the medicine and more supplies, Grace."

She did want to go with him. She really did. But she didn't want to have to deal with people. She worked so much better when she was by herself. She could do what she wanted, when she wanted, if she wanted, how she wanted. No one could dictate her life but her. If she joined up with a group, they'd make her pull her weight in jobs, boss her around, have to look after people. She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. She'd have to bring a lot of supplies with her. She wanted _all_ of her pills and alcohol, she could only think of a few items of clothing she would bring. And she had enough tins of food to hold a feast for a small country, so that would be fine. She'd be able to keep her weapons. Aside from her freedom, which she really didn't have much of in the first place, what else was there for her to lose? She had a lot to gain too. Protection. Company. She craved company. Having Daryl stay was something she had wanted for a very long time. Even if they'd fought and screamed at each other and tried to beat the shit out of each other, it was with another person, not one of those stupid fucking Walkers.

Daryl watched as she thought. Her brow was furrowed into a frown as she'd crossed her arms stubbornly. With Grace around trackin' Sophia would be easier; might even have a higher chance of findin' her. The group would appreciate the help so she'd be accepted without any trouble. He imagined the look on Carol's face when they found her daughter safe and sound – a small smile tweaked at his lips. Grace's hazel eyes flicked to the kitchen, not to anything in particular, and a piece of her dark fringe fell in front of her face. She flicked it out of the way, smiled slightly. Grace had a nice smile.

"Okay. I'll come back with you." She concluded, smiling at him softly. Daryl shared her smile. "I want to help look for your little girl." She kept the concerns of finding the little girl dead somewhere, or worse, to herself. It was better that way. Plus it would be easier to look for her and hunt at the same time, or to get away if being in the group became a little too overwhelming. She could look for some Walkers to kill when she got frustrated. Overall, it looked to benefit her survival more disadvantage her. She could always try to turn looking after people into a positive – she would try her hardest to make sure that the people she stayed with would survive. And the start of it was this little girl.

They shared a kind, beautiful smile and got to work. Grace gathered two back packs and a satchel Michael had always carried supplies with. She placed the two backpacks on the kitchen bench and went to collect her clothes as Daryl threw the tin cans and what other food he could find into one back and the medicine in the other. They filled every inch of each bag successfully. Daryl carried the heavy back pack with the tin cans in it while Grace quietly put all of the alcohol in her clothes satchel and swung the bags over her shoulders. They grabbed their weapons, collected their bearings and Grace followed Daryl to his group. She was secretly grateful to her mother for teaching her those morals and to Daryl for having a big heart, though he'd never admit it. Although most of them didn't stick, the most important ones had. She had been saved from herself by Daryl after she'd saved him. Things were starting to look up.


	5. Chapter 5

**I do not own anything to do with AMC's The Walking Dead. I do own my made up characters. Enjoy. **

**BlackRose851: Thank you.**

**FanFicGirl10: I knew you'd like that. I'm still deciding on whether they find Sophia together or not, considering **_**Chupacabra**_** is based around the time Otis finds Sophia as a Walker and puts her in the barn. But I don't know we'll see what happens :)**

**As of the conclusion of this chapter, each one after will follow the plot of the series by each episode, with my own twists to it. So hopefully they'll be longer than the previous, but still interesting. I'm sure you all want to know what happens ;) **

**Thanks for follows and favourites! **

_The Shape_

Grace created a game out of killing the Walkers they met on the way. Daryl was carrying the heavier pack, but Grace had the backpack and satchel to worry about, so weight was unevenly distributed on her right side. She had her crossbow slung over her left shoulder, but it kept threatening to fall off with every step she took because of the backpack. It was awkward to carry it all and annoyed her. Regardless, she held her machete in her right hand and swung a strong blow into the Walkers heads, readjusting the packs with every swing. Rotten blood spewed all over her clothes, but it was okay, she didn't like what she was wearing anyway. She felt some get on her arms and neck. Secretly, she counted how many she killed and how many Daryl killed. Quite often, he was two steps ahead of her and put an arrow through their skulls before she even saw them coming. He let her gets the ones that were coming from her direction. There weren't too many for them to kill, maybe six or seven, and always on their own, so not enough that Grace could make as secret competition with. Why not make their trip back a bit of fun, even if she didn't openly share it with Daryl? Fun never killed anyone. Right?

They broke out from the shade of the trees into a clearing and Grace marvelled at the sight. A beautiful cream coloured, two-story house stood not too far across a field. It looked like a palace compared to some of the houses she'd bunked at in the past. She could see a barn just down the road from the house in a separate field and a shed on the other side. A few cars were parked around a bunch of short trees, and underneath the shade rested tents of different shapes and sizes. She looked to Daryl, her eyes wide with obvious excitement and a beautiful smile on her face. He looked to her, saw her smile, and looked away again. He never thought he'd see her so happy to be with other people, considering she always crapped on about how much she liked being alone.

This house was perfect. The fields were clear, like her house, which meant that anyone could see a Walker coming their way. Grace saw the RV; it would be a great lookout point. Nice and high up so any Walkers could be picked off quickly without having to alarm amongst the group.

Daryl whistled and nodded to the house, so they headed towards it. Grace slung the crossbow over her shoulder and wiped her hands on her blooded shirt. That might look slightly awkward.

...

"What's with the Annie Oakley routine?" Dale asked, looking up at Andrea from under his hat.

Andrea turned to Dale and looked down at him, an irritated look on her face. "I don't want to wash clothes anymore, Dale; I want to help keep the camp safe. Is that alright with you?" She asked with a patronising tone. He didn't respond but rather stared up at her in disbelief. With a sigh, he hung his head and continued his walk to the RV – Andrea watched until he was gone, sighed herself, and continued to watch for danger.

Dale looked up through the doors of his RV. Glenn sat at the table, holding a book. He looked up and sort of smiled, but it was more like a tight line. "Sorry," he tapped the bottom of the book and looked down at it, then back up to Dale, "just returning your book." Dale made his way over to his friend and looked at it over his shoulder.

"Oh no," he placed the container of water on the floor of the RV and grabbed the book, "I'm sorry. If I'd have known the world was ending, I would have brought better books." He lightly threw it on the bench and picked up the water again.

Glenn laughed awkwardly and played with his hat. There were a few moments of silence as Dale walked past Glenn to finish what he'd started. Glenn got up from the seat. "Uh, Dale? Do you think Andrea's on her period?"

Dale looked up, as if waiting for Andrea to break through the roof and scream Bloody Mary, and raised his hand to tell him to quiet down. Glenn laughed gently, "I'm only asking because it's like all the women are acting really weird, and I read somewhere that when women spend a lot of time together, their cycles line up and they all get super-crazy-hormonal at the same time." Glenn's eyebrows rose as he pointed up to Andrea and in a random direction, to wherever Maggie may have been.

Dale raised his hand again, "I'm going to advise you," a small smile played on his lips but dispersed quickly, "to keep that theory to yourself." Glenn let out another small laugh and nodded. Dale put a hand on his hip and leant against the small counter, smiling, his voice low, "Who else is acting weird?"

Glenn sat down and pointed, "Maggie."

"Ah, _Maggie."_ Dale saw that coming. He'd seen the looks.

"She started off being mean to me, then she wanted to have _sex_ with me and now, she's being mean to me again. And I don't even want to know what's going on with Lori."

"What's going on with Lori?"

Glenn shook his head, trying to look casual as Dale held his gaze. "Nothing, I, uh, I don't know."

"Alright, listen, listen, let's take this back a step: how do you know that Maggie wanted to have sex with you?"

Glenn gave Dale a look, eyebrows raised. A proud look.

"Oh, son, you didn't." Glenn's grin was cut short, "Did it ever occur to you how her father might feel about this?"

"She's twenty-two."

"And he is our _host."_ Dale couldn't stress the urgency of the situation any more if he tried.

Glenn nodded; his eyes somewhere else. "He doesn't know."

"Well, see that it stays that way." Dale looked away and shook his head, "Jesus, Glenn! What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking... that I might be dead tomorrow."

They shared a look. Dale's expression softened as Glenn got up. He was annoyed. "Thanks for the book," Dale tried to say something, tried to place a reassuring hand on Glenn's shoulder, but he moved away before Dale could, "you're right; it sucks."

Andrea watched Glenn trudge away from the RV and turned her attention back to the fields after seeing something from the corner of her eye. She squinted, trying to get a better look. There was something emerging from under the shade of the trees. She rose from her seat, "Walker. Walker!"

"Just the one?" Rick asked, putting a hand over his eyes to shade from the high and bright sun. Andrea grabbed her binoculars, trying to get a better look. She couldn't see much from the glare of the sun, but she could make out two figures making their way towards the camp. "No, two, but I bet I can nail one from here."

"No," Rick said firmly, "No, Andrea, put the gun _down_." Glenn raced for his machete, T-Dog to his metal baseball bat. Shane spoke up, limping quickly next to T-Dog.

"You'd best let us handle this."

"Shane, hold up. Hershel wants to deal with Walkers."

"What for, man? We got it covered." He ignored Rick entirely, who frowned and cursed, retrieving his gun from the RV and sprinting after the small group.

A look appeared on Andrea's face as she glanced down at the rifle in her hands. She held it firmly, raising it and looking through the sight. Shane limped as T-Dog, Rick and Glenn sprinted as fast as they could towards the Walkers as they trudged closer and closer. Andrea frowned at the glare in the sight as she lay on top of the RV and set the rifle on the metal bar bordering the roof. She looked through the sight again and got ready to take the shot, ignoring the fact that it wasn't clear.

"Andrea, don't!" Dale stressed.

"Back off, Dale."

Rick was the first to get close to the Walkers and raised his gun. The Walkers stopped moving.

"Is that Daryl?" Glenn asked.

"That's the third time you've pointed that thing at my head. You gonna pull the trigger or what?" Daryl asked, clearly tired and irritated.

Rick swapped targets, pointing it now at the girl Daryl stood next to. She frowned, confused, and went to say something before a gunshot rang out. Something burning and hard scraped the side of her head but took her off her feet. She heard someone yelling and was lifted up before everything went black. She didn't like this floaty feeling so much. It hurt.

...

"I found it washed up on a creek bed right there. She must have dropped it crossing somewhere." She heard his sweet voice before she saw him. Grace's eyes fluttered open, blurred and heavy. Her head was throbbing something awful; much worse than when she woke up that morning. Was it still the morning? She frowned and made a noise as pain ripped through her temple.

"Cuts the grid almost in half." She didn't recognise that voice.

"Yeah, you're welcome."

Grace let out a deep breath and firmly shut her eyes again and someone swabbed at her forehead. She winced as a bandage was stuck over it.

"How's she looking?"

"I had no idea we'd be going through the antibiotics so quickly." The man who just spoke had fixed her aching head and moved away from the bed. Grace opened her eyes again and rubbed them, trying to get the blurriness out. She groaned as she sat upright and looked around. Things were coming into view. A black lamp pole which hung the shade down like a flower on the bedside table, a metal tray filled with bloodied bandages, used stitching needles and extra thread, a dresser, a cross on the wall. "Any idea what happened to my horse?"

"Yeah, the one that almost killed me? If it's smart, it left the country."

Grace let out a small, dry laugh. No one seemed to notice that she was awake.

"We call that one Nelly. As in Nervous Nelly," Grace looked at the man who spoke. He was older than the rest of them. Quite old. Grey head looked fluffy his head. "I could have told you she'd throw you if you bothered to ask. It's a wonder you people have survived this long."

Everyone left the room but Daryl, who had watched them all leave. He turned his attention to Grace when the door had closed. She stared into his blue eyes, her head throbbing painfully. She felt light. Where were her bags, her crossbow, her pain killers? God, she needed those pain killers.

"How you feein'?" He asked her quietly. She smiled.

"About as good as I look." He smirked, "I definitely didn't expect to be greeted by a gun. But I guess it was my fault. I should have used my crossbow to take down the Walkers instead of my machete. Wouldn't have gotten blood on my clothes and a bullet almost in my brain." She winced and held her head. "Hurts like a motherfucker."

Something lands in her lap with a thud. "Thought you might want some of those when you woke up." A small orange container that had small white pills in it.

"You are just the best." She shot him a smile, her eyes lit up. Grace downed the pills, screwing the cap back on and tossing them back to him. He stretched out and caught them. He must have seen the look on her face and answered her unasked question.

"Hershel, the ol' man who owns this place, said you a natural when he checked out my stitches. He thinks you're a doctor or somethin'."

Grace laughed loudly and shook her head, "I've been a lot of things in my time, but a doctor ain't one of them."

"Yeah I figured. Doctor Grace Dwyer don't sit right." They shared a small laugh and he admired her sweet smile, though he'd never say something like that out loud.

"Should I come out and meet everybody?" Grace asked, looking thoughtfully up at Daryl, "I feel like I could walk."

"You sure you wanna?"

"It's a good a time as any, I guess."

He grunted and pulled a white plate with a sandwich on it from next to where he sat. She took it happily, briefly checking the contents. Canned tuna, probably from her own stash of canned goods. She bit into the sandwich, frowning. Had they put their nose in her business after one of them _shot her in the head_? Maybe this wasn't a good idea after all. Grace finished the sandwich in a few large bites and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She took a deep breath before slowly rising to her feet, her hand holding onto the frame so she could steady herself. Her head spun a little, but she ignored it. "Where are my bags?" Daryl stood and nodded towards the door. She followed him out.

"…Daryl almost died today for a doll."

A woman and two men were standing out the front of the door. One of the men had his arms crossed and a pissed off look on his face. The other had a reasoning expression. The woman just looked plain scared. They all stared at Grace and Daryl exit the room.

"Good to see you up and about," the Reasoning-Expression man said, "I'm Rick Grimes; this is my wife Lori and my partner, Shane Walsh." Shane uncrossed his arms and placed them on his hips. Lori stared at her. Grace just smiled and gave a small nod, "Grace Dwyer."

"Forgive me for pointing my gun at you, Ms Dwyer, and for you bein' shot at. It was just hard to tell that you weren't a Walker from the blood on your clothes and how dirty you both were. I told Andrea to let us handle it but she refused to listen."

"Just Grace is fine. It's alright; I guess I can understand the confusion. But I trust you'll have a talk to this trigger-happy moron Andrea for me." Grace's tone went from kind to malicious.

Rick nodded, his lips a tight line, "Of course."

"Rick," Shane spoke up, eyebrows raised. He still looked pissed off. She and Daryl had interrupted an intense conversation. Grace smiled and nodded, waving a hand as goodbye to them and followed Daryl outside.

The Georgian sun seemed brighter than ever, even though it was starting to set. She was out for a long time. Grace shielded her eyes to look out at the goings-on outside, her head throbbing from squinting. Everything seemed brighter than normal. The camp was set up in two different groups; the family that inhabited the house and everyone else out in the many different shaped and coloured tents. That seemed odd. There were cars parked around the camp, with the big RV at the back nearest the fence. A good lookout point. The lookout point that bitch Andrea shot her from. She touched the bandage on her head, wincing as it stung and made her head throb even more. She'll keep. Daryl and Grace walked silently to the RV, when an older man wearing a bucket cap appeared from behind the door.

"Ah, you must be Grace!" He said, holding a hand out to her. She took it firmly and without hesitation, smiling at the older man, "I'm Dale. You're welcome to stay in the RV. I can make some room and–"

"She's in my tent." Daryl said, interrupting Dale. The older man gave him a bit of a look, so did Grace, one eyebrow cocked. Staying in Daryl's tent would be nice, considering she felt comfortable around him. But people would think things and ask questions and Grace frowned at the idea, running her hand through her hair. That was one of the reasons she liked being by herself: no gossip. Daryl noticed the looks Grace and Dale were giving him. "What? Got plenty o' room." He didn't understand why they were looking at him like that. He figured she'd be more comfortable and feel safe with someone she knew. He figured it was just common sense. Besides, it's not like his brother was there to use it anymore. Grace smiled and turned back to Dale, thanking him for the offer. Dale went back into the RV and Daryl followed him, returning with her bags and Dale with her crossbow shortly after. Daryl nodded over to the bunch of tents and carried her things for her. How sweet. She slung her crossbow over her shoulder. It felt reassuring to have her weapon back in her possession. Even if she had her knife and machete, she wouldn't feel completely safe. Her crossbow provided her with that clarity and a sense of mental stability. She needed all of the mental stability she could get. It made her think, when Daryl reached into her bag and grabbed her thigh and hip holsters with both her knife and machete still inside, untouched.

"I'm surprised no one confiscated my weapons when I was out. Do you always let stragglers with weapons into your camp after one of your people shoots them?"

"Not my people," he said, setting her bags down in the uninhabited corner of the small tent, "I told Rick that you weren't a threat and that you wanted to help look for Sophia and could look after the camp, able with a gun and everythin'. He seemed okay with it. They shouldn't bother you 'less they want you on watch."

Grace nodded at him. She could do that – and actually make sure she was shooting a Walker while she was at it. Grace wasn't looking forward to the greeting with Andrea – she wasn't going to be nice. Andrea owed her big time. She had half a mind to smack the bitch out when she knew who she was, but that wouldn't look good for her or for Daryl, considering he'd claimed that she wasn't a threat. Grace guessed that Daryl was a figure head of the group. Not surprising.

Someone called to Daryl from outside his tent. A woman with short grey hair ducked her head in and became tight lipped as she saw that Daryl was not alone, with another woman in fact. She introduced herself as Carol, seemingly reluctant, and gave Grace a quick look down after she announced that dinner was ready. Grace raised a thin eyebrow and cast a look from Carol to Daryl then back to her. Daryl cleared his throat, feeling the tension given off by Carol, and thanked her. She gave a small smile and left, but not before she gave Grace another look. Some people must not have believed the _she's not a threat_ claim. Oh well, Carol looked feeble and pathetic. No problems if she became trouble. She might only have a problem if someone like Shane became trouble.

Grace sat with Daryl on her left and Dale on her right, across from Rick. Lori gave her odd looks through the silent and awkward dinner. No one said anything. Glances were exchanged and often they weren't nice. Jesus. What had Grace gotten herself into? She kept her head down for most of the dinner and pushed her food around her plate. It wasn't like she didn't enjoy it, she did, but she was used to surviving off what she could hunt in the wild, which was nowhere near as fancy as this. Having all of those vegetables and meat made her stomach turn a little, but she continued to eat it. She was a guest, so she figured she'd have to be polite. Hell, it was weird eating off a plate with a knife and fork. She generally just used her fingers. No one around to be offended by it so why the hell not? She noticed Carol exchanging looks with Lori and the both of them watching her.

The Korean man attempted to diffuse the tension by asking if anyone played guitar. Daryl shook his head. Apparently a man named Otis did, and was very good, according to Hershel. He wasn't present at dinner. Grace figured out why they were using past tense. The Korean looked back to his food, deflated, until the woman to his left handed him a note, to which his mood instantly and quite visibly lifted. Grace noticed through the corner of her eyes that Dale, Hershel and Daryl all noticed. The four of them stared at the woman. Hershel looked disappointed. Dale looked cautious. Daryl looked like he knew something, the way he smirked. Grace's thin eyebrow raised, her lip tweaking into a smirk too as she grew curious. The woman noticed and averted her gaze back down to the note that the Korean had replied to, oblivious to the fact that they'd been caught out. Hershel looked back to his food, glancing up at Grace and Daryl, who had both exchanged a look and went back to their meal. Grace rested her head in her hand, hiding her grin.

Grace hadn't bothered to offer her help with the dishes, which resulted in the older ladies staring daggers into the back of her head as she left the house and made her way to Daryl's tent. She rifled through her drug and alcohol bag for pain killers after her head started throbbing again. She downed one of the stronger pills with a mouthful of whisky. She exhaled deeply as the aftertaste hit and pulled a face.

She emerged from her tent and whipped out her machete when a figure appeared in front of her. Her heartbeat escalated quickly. "Whoa, Grace, hold up!" He said, hands raised in defence, "I ain't a Walker!"

"Shit," Grace returned her machete to its holster, "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well, I'm T-Dog." She gave the African-American man a raised-eyebrow look and they shared a smile and Grace let out a short laugh. "You have second shift tonight, after me. So I was comin' to let you know that I'll wake you up when I'm done and you have to wake up your buddy Daryl for his shift."

"Thanks, T-Dog." Grace gave him a small smile.

"Try not to kill me when I come back tonight," he said with a smile, the gap in his front teeth showing, "you only just got here." He walked off with a smile, shaking his head.

Grace felt the whisky hit and it made her head spin. Maybe she should just stay put for now; get some sleep before her shift. She returned to the tent and took off her boots, laying down on the cot. She crossed her arms and closed her eyes, waiting for the world to stop spinning. It eventually stopped. By that time, she was breathing evenly and lightly, the small gap between her lips as usual. Daryl ducked his head inside and gave a half smirk as he crept inside, finishing off the whisky he saw next to her bag. She wouldn't mind. They were nothing short of drinking buddies. Not like she could handle it anyways. He screwed the lid back on and discarded it in the corner. He lay back in his cot, folding his arms behind his head. Grace stirred and he looked at her from the corner of his eye. He saw the small part between her lips and quickly closed his eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

**I do not own anything to do with AMC's The Walking Dead. I do own my made up characters. Enjoy.**

**BlackRose851: Thank you :)**

**FanFicGirl10: That review made me laugh so hard! I'm glad you're enjoying it. Yeah I'm still thinking of my own ways I can twist the storyline so I can kill whoever I want :) Thanks for the review!**

**Feel free to review, everyone. I would love to get your feedback on how I'm doing so far :) Also, sorry that this chapter is so short – I think it's the only episode in season two where you don't actually see Daryl, so I didn't have much to go off in the sense of the plot. **

**Thanks for follows and favourites! **

_Secrets_

Lori and Carl were tending to the chicks while Patricia fed the chickens. She thought no one had seen her take the chicken into the shed, but Grace did. She was wondering what she could be doing with a chicken and a large sack. But, like most things, she decided it was none of her business – as strange as it was – and kept watch on top of the RV with her new friends Dale and T-Dog, whose name had been shortened further to 'T', which he said he preferred. She really enjoyed their company – the way Dale was so open about everything. T-Dog just listened quietly and made a joke when the time called for it. Dale had asked about Grace's history and understood when she was unwilling to share. T-Dog didn't even think to question her reluctance. Someone like Shane would have pushed the topic of her past, accusing her of hiding something. The only thing she would be hiding was the extreme urge to beat the shit out of him. But even then, she was no good at hiding that urge anyway. Dale squinted at the sun from underneath his bucket cap and suggested that they raise the awning on the RV. The three of them got down from the roof; Dale and T-Dog got to work raising it and Grace watched for next time.

She enjoyed being put on watch. It was nice for Rick to trust her with something like that so soon. Maybe Rick trusted her with a rifle and the protection of the group because Daryl had a say in the matter. He must have

Glenn approached them with a bucket, "Dale, here're some peaches for ya."

"Mmm, thank you." He took one out of the basket.

Grace smiled at Glenn and took a peach as he greeted Andrea, who appeared from the RV. She'd shot Grace a shy look from under her lashes. Grace had returned a hard expression, her jaw set tight.

T-Dog rubbed his eye, "Sup?"

"Nothing... Nothing's up. Why?" Glenn shifted his gaze from T-Dog to Dale. Grace raised a thin eyebrow and glanced at Dale. Dale, T-Dog and Grace all gave Glenn looks as he shook his head, grabbed the basket and quickly walked off with his head down. The three watched him walk away and shared glances.

"That was weird," Dale stated.

"You don't say," Grace muttered.

"It's okay," T started, looking smug as Dale and Grace looked at him in confusion, "He'll spill. Glenn can't keep secrets to save himself; guy can't even play Poker. I'd give him an hour, tops. He'll spill."

Grace looked back over at Glenn as T and Dale finished setting up the awning. He'd set the basket down and was talking to Lori. She looked at him as if he had the plague, like she didn't want him there. Lori's eyes wandered as she spoke with Glenn. How conspicuous. Grace didn't look away when Lori's eyes met with hers. She gave Glenn a stern look and his shoulders sunk. Grace looked away. Don't get into other people's business. She made her way over to Rick, Shane and that kid Hershel was looking after. They were discussing Sophia.

Shane whistled to 'Peach Man' and Grace frowned. How could he be so rude, whistling to Glenn as if he were a dog? She knew why she didn't like him. She exhaled loudly and deeply, watching Rick point at the map and pretending to listen as Shane shot her a dirty look. Glenn made his way over with the basket and ignored Grace's stare. Glenn floated behind Rick, looking like he wanted to say something. Grace's gaze found Lori, who was staring at Glenn. She reinforced her grip on the large stick she was carrying and walked off.

"My binoculars," Shane said with his mouth full, spitting some saliva and peach. Grace scoffed, rolling her eyes. Disgusting.

"Oh yeah right." Glenn took them off and quickly handed them to Shane before darting away. "Bye."

Shane laughed as Rick looked at Grace with a confused expression. She shrugged and stared at Shane, her jaw set. He returned the look. She didn't know what it was about him – actually she did know why she didn't like him. It was his face. Grace just wanted to punch it. She imagined the satisfaction of breaking his nose.

Grace was watching Dale clean the RV and showing her how to do it. She was holding his tools and handing them to him when he requested them. He always smiled at her when she gave him the right one. Grace liked Dale a lot.

"You comin'?" Grace looked over at Shane, who was taking people in the Hyundai for some shooting practise. Lord knows they needed it.

"I gotta help Dale clean the spark plugs in the RV," Glenn said. Dale poked his head out from the front of the RV and gave Glenn a raised-eyebrow look from behind. Grace's lips tweaked into a half smile. T was right. He is hiding something. "Says he's gunna teach me mechanics, so... I should probably go look for him."

"Funny that," Grace said, causing Glenn and Shane to look at her, "Dale said the exact same thing to me." Glenn's expression sunk. Busted. Shane looked annoyed.

"He's a good learner." Dale said nodding, a smile on his face.

Shane and Rick took the cars away and drove off down the gravel path. Grace, Dale and Glenn smiled and waved to them as they left. As the cars left from their sight, their expressions paled. Glenn was waiting for the two to interrogate him, he knew it. Grace and Dale shared a look then stared at Glenn. Dale shook his head. "Spark plugs, huh?"

"We already did those," Grace said, pointing with her thumb, a cheeky smile on her lips.

"Wanna tell me what's going on?" Dale asked, his lips a solid line.

Glenn looked around, his eyes meeting with Grace's before he spoke, "You're old– you... you _know things. _S-So..." Glenn hesitated, shooting a look at Grace. Dale's bushy eyebrows turned to a frown as one of Grace's thin eyebrows rose, daring him to continue. "What if somebody told you something that somebody else shouldn't know and–"

Dale shook his head, getting a little annoyed at Glenn's cryptic behaviour, "Glenn, stop being dramatic. Spit it out."

Glenn looked pained and his wandering eyes met Grace's before he broke. "There's... There's Walkers in the barn and Lori's pregnant."

Grace's eyes hit the ground. How could there be Walkers in the barn? Who put them there? How did they get there? They had to do something. Here she was, thinking that Daryl had brought her to a safe place, when someone may as well slit their throats while they sleep. And Lori is _pregnant_. How could she let that happen? How could she be so _stupid?_ A baby wouldn't survive in a world like this. The idea of a baby crying every second of every day made her shiver. No one would be safe with a baby around. Grace got angry. She clenched her fists and gritted her teeth. She could feel herself shaking, her body rippling with anger. "How could you keep this from us, Glenn?" She asked through gritted teeth, looking up at him from under her long, dark lashes. "Everybody's lives are at risk and you just, I don't know, _forgot_ to mention that there are things we've been defending ourselves from not one hundred metres away from us while we sleep, while we go about our day watching the _outside_ of the camp for Walkers when they've been _inside all along?_ What the FUCK is wrong with you, Glenn?" Grace was screaming at this point. Dale placed a hand on her shoulder and she felt herself trembling. She looked around, her hazel eyes darting around the camp. A few people, including Daryl, were looking at her with confused expressions. Daryl looked at her as if she were crazy. She noticed two sets of eyes who didn't look confused. Lori and Maggie both stared at Grace, horror set into their expressions. Yeah, that seems about right. Grace snarled and almost started towards Lori, the closer of the two, but Dale and Glenn both stopped her.

"Grace, don't!" Glenn whispered desperately. It was a bit too late. Maggie and Lori knew that he had spilled.

"Grace, there's no use getting angry," Dale said, holding her arm, "Try to cool off and let me handle this Walkers-In-The-Barn issue."

"'Handle it'?" Grace snapped, her anger focusing on the older man she had started to adore, "How do you suppose you'll 'handle' this, Dale?"

"I'll talk to Hershel; get his side. In the mean time," he let go of Grace's arm, "You need to calm down – go hunting, look for Sophia, _something_. No good kicking up a storm and getting people worried."

Grace glared at Glenn, who still held her other arm. She jerked out of his grip and took a deep breath. She nodded to Dale and walked off to her tent. She could feel people watching her, their gaze digging into her head like knives. They thought she was crazy. She kept her head down and ducked into the tent, grabbing her crossbow, only to find blue eyes frowning down at her as she went to leave.

"Fuck was all that, Dwyer?" Daryl asked. Grace got up and tried to move past him but he got in the way. She noticed his crossbow slung over his broad shoulders.

"None of your goddamn business, Dixon," she snapped, shocking him slightly, "Now come on; let's go hunting and kill some fucking Walkers." It wasn't a request, it was an order. He grunted and followed her as she strode through the camp, gritting her teeth as she felt the eyes again. He wasn't going to ask her again. She didn't want to tell him and he respected that. Although it was strange, Grace acting up like that, he wasn't going to badger her. Maybe cooling off by hunting some game will help her come around. It didn't really bother him if she told him or not. But Daryl knew that he was the only person she trusted at the camp so far. Yeah, she liked Dale and T-Dog, but they hadn't seen a few different sides to her like Daryl had. And she knew that.

Grace and Daryl didn't come back until the sun had set. Grace had barely said a word to Daryl the whole time, focusing on the hunt and taking her mind off whatever had got her so riled up. Daryl didn't mind. He preferred hunting by himself, but it was okay with Grace because she was quiet and knew what she was doing. Other people either had no clue or they tried to talk to him. That's when he started to get pissed with people. He noticed the part in her lips again, proving that she was focused entirely on hunting. She managed to get a few squirrels, two rabbits and a deer they found grazing just before they decided to head back. Daryl was impressed with the deer, and Grace was more than happy with her efforts – no Walker was going to snag her game from her this time. She saw it before he did and motioned for him to get down so he did. She lifted her crossbow and aimed. He only managed to get a glimpse of its head poking out behind a bush before one of her arrows went right through it. It didn't die from the shot, so Grace had to go over to it and finish the job. He could tell that she enjoyed hunting the deer. It would give everyone some extra food for a while, not to mention they would be grateful for the food. Daryl didn't try to hunt anything. He was just watching for Walkers. There were only two and one scared away a rabbit that Grace had in her sights. Before she could turn around Daryl had put an arrow through its head. She smiled her thanks at him and he nodded.

They walked in comfortable silence back to the camp. Daryl wouldn't let Grace carry her larger kill because of her head injury, so he had it over his shoulders. Even though pain in his abdomen had come back from lifting the heavy animal over his head, he ignored it and soldiered through the pain. Grace had protested, reminding him of his wounds, but they hadn't been hurting too bad that day so he reassured that he was fine. She grumbled but took her smaller kills around her belt and walked with him.

They walked past the RV, where T-Dog slung the rifle over his shoulder and applauded the kill. Grace smiled sweetly and thanked him. Daryl kept his head down, but had a smirk on his lips. He liked Grace's smile.

Grace's attention snapped to Maggie, who was yelling and throwing things at a shocked and confused Lori's feet. Glenn stood behind Maggie, awkwardly watching. Grace copied Daryl, kept her head down, and followed him to the campfire. That man was smart to keep his nose out of people's business.

They worked silently together, enjoying each other's company. Daryl skinned and gutted the deer as Grace quickly made her way through the smaller animals, which didn't take her long. Whenever someone walked past, they gawked at the sight of the large animal. Lori almost threw up at the sight; Grace guessed it was because of the pregnancy. It wasn't _that_ bad to look at. Plus, it would be their food for a good while. When Rick passed by, he smiled and gave thanks to the two hunters. Daryl had shifted the credit to Grace, to her surprise. She had smiled sheepishly then as Rick thanked them both anyway and went inside to tell the Greene family. Grace's head began throbbing and she'd noticed Daryl wincing and holding his abdomen, so she found some pain killers and a canteen in the tent and shared them with him. She assumed the canteen was his, but she didn't drink from it anyway. Water wasn't exactly her favourite beverage – she had plenty more that took her preference in her bag.

Daryl thanked her with a nod as she placed the canteen at her feet. He continued, feeling her gaze on him. He shot her a short look from under his lashes, and her eyes fell down to the deer. Her lips were parted in concentration. Maybe she was just watching his technique. He got back to it. Grace's eyes fell back to looking at his muscular arms, his shoulders, how well he wore the dirty, grey singlet. Was she allowed to think like that, given the apocalyptic circumstances? It's not like they had to worry about pregnancy, due to her condition. She decided to keep her thoughts a secret for now and focus on more important things, like the fucking Walkers in the fucking barn. She hoped Dale had actually sorted it out, come up with a compromise. She didn't want to die. Not yet.


	7. Chapter 7

**I do not own anything to do with AMC's The Walking Dead. I do own my made up characters. Enjoy.**

**BlackRose851: Thank you :)**

**FanFicGirl10: Shit definitely does go down ;) In that case, I hoped you're pleased with this chapter. Enjoy!**

**Feel free to review, everyone. I would love to get your feedback on how I'm doing so far :) Thanks for follows and favourites! **

_Saviour_

The red sun broke free of the early morning clouds and it was already starting to get warm. Not a good sign. _Red sky in the morning, sailors warning_. Grace sat around the fire and waited for breakfast. Carol pushed the food around in the frying pan as it sat over the open fire. Grace was starving. She sat next to Daryl on a fold out chair, waiting for food. Andrea sharpened her knife on a cheese grater a few metres in front of them, just on the other side of the flames. She was completely focused, probably why she didn't notice Grace staring at her. Everyone was silent aside from Lori, who gently spoke to Rick. He just ended up looking at her vaguely and muttering something, which made her look uneasy. Carol came over with food, which took Grace's attention momentarily. She smiled and nodded her thanks to Carol.

Her eyes floated to Glenn, who had his head turned towards Maggie. Grace chewed slowly; Maggie shook her head. Ah, the Walkers-in-the-barn problem. She frowned, swallowed and suddenly lost her appetite, looking at the food in her lap. The hunting and drinking from the night before distracted her better than she hoped it would and she'd all but forgotten about it until that moment. She looked up at Glenn, who was now looking at Dale. Dale was nodding. Glenn's eyes met with Grace's – all she did was raise one thin eyebrow. He nodded; a look on his face that read _I know what I have to do_, and rose from where he was seated. He awkwardly walked over to the front of the black and grey tent. Dale and Grace watched him the whole time. No one even suspected anything until he spoke, "Uhmm... Guys?" He rubbed his face. Everyone looked up, still eating or cooking, "Sooo..." He clasped his hands together, nervous. Grace clenched her jaw and gave him the raised-eyebrow look again, "The barn's full of Walkers."

Now everyone had his full attention. Carol turned her head to him and frowned, scared and confused. T-Dog looked at him over his mug. Daryl didn't look like he believed it. Andrea's straightened and looked at him with concern. Shane just looked like Shane: pissed off. Carl, Lori and Rick all had serious expressions on their faces, but Grace could see Rick's jaw visibly clench.

Everyone was up and made their way over to have a look, but no one grabbed their weapons. Grace always had her knives on her. She thought momentarily that they were all stupid. Shane looked through the small crack between the double doors. He strode past Rick, fuming. "You cannot tell me you're alright with this."

"No I am not, but we're guests here, this isn't our land."

"This is our lives, man!"

"Lower your voice." Glenn hissed.

"We can't just sweep this under the rug." Andrea stated with a matter-of-fact tone. Grace wanted to slap her.

"It ain't right, not remotely." T said.

"We either gotta go in there, we gotta make things right, or we've just gotta go. Now we've been talking 'bout Fort Benning for a long time now."

"We _can't go." _

"Why, Rick, why?"

"Because my daughter's still out there," Carol took a step forward.

"Okay," Shane let out a little laugh and ran his hands down his face, "Alright I think it's time that we all just start to just... consider the other possibilities and–"

"Shane! We are not leaving Sophia behind." Rick stated. Grace admired the leader of the group. He wasn't about to give up for Sophia, which she respected in him. But she agreed with Shane – much to her chagrin – she doubted that the little girl would still be alive. Rick was either persistent or stupid. Grace waited to find out.

"I'm close to finding this girl," Daryl explained, walking in front of Carol, "I just found her damn doll three days ago."

"And I'm going to help him look for her," Grace said from next to Carol. The mother looked at her with sad eyes, but Shane laughed at the hunters, which made her frown.

"You found her doll, Daryl, that's what you did. You found _a doll._"

There was a short silence.

"You don't know what _the hell _you're talkin' 'bout." Daryl exclaimed as Rick put an arm out in front of the angered hunter. Grace took a step forward, clenching her fists, but Daryl stood back. The huntress glared at Shane.

"I'm just saying what needs to be said!"

"Well maybe you should just shut your goddamn mouth," Grace snarled. Only Daryl heard.

"You get a good lead within the first forty-eight hours and–" Rick was trying to calm his 'brother' down, but failed miserably. Daryl took a few steps forward and Grace followed suit. The two hunters were fuming. "No let me tell you somethin' else, man. If she was alive out there, saw you comin' all Methed out with your Buck knife 'n' Geek Ears 'round your neck, she would _run. In the other. Direction." _

Daryl threw himself forward at Shane, but Rick got in the way. Grace moved around Rick and almost got a fist to Shane's face as he focused on Daryl, but Glenn grabbed her and pushed her back. She growled but remained there. There was a lot of yelling, Shane and Daryl would have killed each other if Rick wasn't in the way. Grace would have helped Daryl do it. Everyone got in the way, three or more people forcing themselves between Daryl and Shane. Daryl stood down, taking a few steps back, ending up next to a glaring Grace. Shane kept coming, trying to force his way through everyone to get to Daryl. With one push and some help from his wife, Rick managed to get Shane back.

"Keep your hands off me," Shane aimed that at Lori, pointing right in her face. Grace took a few deep breaths and ran a hand through her messy hair. Shane skulked off.

"Just let me talk to Hershel; let me figure it out."

"What are you gonna figure out?" Shane screamed. Lori stood in front of him, placing a strong hand on his chest.

"Enough!" The mother managed to hold him back. Grace was impressed.

"If we can just say, we're gonna clear this barn. I have to talk him into it. This is his land!"

"Hershel sees those things in there as people," Dale stated, approaching the leader, "Sick people; his wife, his step-son."

"You knew?"

"Yesterday, I talked to Hershel."

"And you waited the night?" Shane spat.

"I thought we could survive one more night," Dale spat back, "_We did._ I was waiting till this morning to say something but Glenn wanted to be the one."

"The man is crazy, Rick, if he thinks those things are alive then–"

Shane's shouting was cut off by the Walkers in the barn, pushing against the chained and locked doors, trying desperately to get out. Some people walked off, Grace didn't see who. She was more concerned with the fight-or-flight battle going on in her stomach. No one knew how many were in there and she didn't want to risk being caught trying to check. She felt her jaw clench and shot a sideways glance at Daryl, who was staring at the doors. He looked tense, ready to do something if they managed to break out. She found herself in a defensive stance, her fists clenched and her body centred. She wouldn't run. She wasn't a quitter before all of this and she wouldn't let it change her now. Nor would she let Shane give up searching for Sophia just because he had deemed her dead with no proof. She was going to find her and she was going to prove him wrong so he'd shut his big, ugly, goddamn mouth.

The group split and Grace went back to the tent. She tight her long hair up and out of the way. The high ponytail whipped at her back as she changed into her gear, the same outfit she'd worn when she went out hunting and found Daryl. She laced up her boots tight and grabbed the two crossbows, the rest of Daryl's gear and a bottle of pain killers. She noticed Carol walking to the stables when she emerged from her tent, so she followed quickly, hoping to ask if she knew where Daryl was.

Daryl carried a saddle into the stable, the pain in his abdomen sending ripping pain up his side. He used up a lot of energy and almost threw it to get it onto a stand. He keeled over slightly, breathing heavily through the pain as he held his side.

"You can't."

Daryl looked up and saw a concerned Carol walking over to him. He guessed she saw that whole thing and he scowled. "I'm fine." He growled, grabbing a pair of reins that were hanging from the wall.

"Hershel said you need to heal."

"Yeah," He avoided looking at Carol, annoyed that she was trying to tell him what to do, "I don't care."

"Well I do," she said softly. She followed behind Daryl as he opened the door and started setting up the horse.

"I ain't gonna sit around and do nothin'."

"So you're gonna go out there and get yourself hurt even more?"

"It's alright, Carol," Grace walked up next to her, she'd jumped slightly, not expecting anyone else to come here, "I'll keep him safe for you." She gave a sweet smile.

"The hell you will..." she heard him mutter. She made a face to the back of his head.

"We don't know if we're even gunna find her." She said to the two hunters. Grace's lips twitched; her eyes at her feet. Daryl turned slowly, giving her a hard look. "We don't. I don't..." She was absolutely defeated, emotionally exhausted.

Daryl took a few steps towards her, "What?"

It was almost as if Grace wasn't there. She could feel her fists clench, her jaw tighten. "I can't lose you too," Carol almost whispered. Grace's breath hitched and she swallowed. Daryl's expression was pained, confused. How was he meant to feel about that? No one had ever said anything like that to him before.

Grace shot Carol a look from under her lashes, "You're not going to lose anyone, Carol. We've got each other's backs; we're going to find her_._"

"How do you know?" Carol shot at Grace, a tear slithered down her withered skin.

She almost pushed past Carol, handing Daryl his gear and putting the crossbows down. He tied it around his waist and accepted the two pain killers she held out to him. He'd been holding his wound without realising but Grace had seen it. Carol made a comment about drugs and resting, but neither hunter paid much attention as they readied the horse. The mother walked off crying when she realised that they weren't going to listen. Daryl was glad that Grace was equally as stubborn, maybe more, than he was. If she was determined to find her, then he was absolutely sure that they would. Even if it took them the rest of the week. They wouldn't stop.

Grace led the horse out to the open and past the camp; Daryl followed with the crossbows. They passed by Lori and Carl, who were doing work, but she overheard him saying that he won't leave until they find Sophia. Lori looked up at Grace, who was smiling and ruffled the kid's hair. "Don't you worry, Carl. Daryl and I are gonna find her and bring her back safe and sound." Lori gave her a stern look before she led the horse to out through the fields.

They stopped before the trees and Grace threw herself on the horse; Daryl noticed a sort of elegance to it. Maybe she'd done it a lot before. She nodded to the back of the horse and he shot her a dirty look. "Dixon, get on the fucking horse," She ordered, knowing he'd complain about not being in control. It would do well with the two of them; Grace barely weighed a thing. He would never admit it, but he sort of liked how she didn't take shit from anyone. She held her arm out and he took it, her grip on his wrist tighter than he expected. He got on the horse easily, the pain killers worked nicely. He looked down at her waist and contemplated holding it. Would that be weird? That was exactly why he didn't want to ride on the ass of it. He was fine with her holding him for support but where was he supposed to hold? He couldn't go too high or too low. He settled for just below her ribs. Hopefully that was not too high and not too low.

They started off slowly, quietly, looking around and surveying the area. He had to lean back slightly because every time Grace turned her head, her hair flicked his face or tickled his stubble. He knew riding on the ass end would be trouble – especially with a woman taking front. He shook his focus and remembered why they were out there. There was nothing for a good long while, not a peep from any animals or any sign of Walkers. Daryl didn't know whether to feel relieved or not. If they came across another herd, he knew they'd have to get out of there, but he didn't know if it would be able to take it. They followed the trail about mile before Grace's head straightened – like a dog that heard the dinner bell – and steered off course. "What are you doing? I've been down this way. Just an old abandoned house. Go back to the trail!"

Grace didn't answer him; before he knew it they were flying so he leant forward to avoid the wind. They came into a clearing where the familiar, dirty, cream-coloured house with a dirty red roof came into view. It was the exact same as how he'd left it, but there was a Ute out the front. He frowned, knowing all too well that it hadn't been there before. Grace made a comment about hearing a door slam shut and that he was deaf, but he didn't care. They got off the horse. Grace hitched it to the trees nearby just before the clearing and Daryl handed her crossbow to her. Grace went to the car, and checked inside it. Someone was conveniently careless. She smiled and opened the door quietly, pocketing the keys. Worst comes to worst, they had an effective means of escape. She left the door open slightly, not wanting to risk it being loud. It creaked slightly and she pulled a face. She hurried over to Daryl, who had made his way past the shrubs and small trees to the front of the house. He'd noticed the tracks before Grace did, if she did at all. Three sets, two were solid and larger, the other was struggled. He took cover at the corner, peering around it. He could see that the front door was open. He silently moved to the side of the door, Grace took the other side. He hadn't seen or heard her coming, but he was glad she was there and she knew what she was doing. She held her crossbow down at the wooden veranda, away from her feet. She didn't lean her body against the wall, just her head to peer around the corner, which was good – if something appeared suddenly she wouldn't stumble. He noticed the look of concentration on her face and the way her lips parted. He wasn't going to lie, he liked it. She looked like a badass.

"Look, girl, squirmin' is gon do nothin'," a thick Spanish accent broke the silence and Daryl's attention snapped back, "So just be a good girl and lay still." Grace heard a small scream cut short by a slap.

"Shut the fuck up," An American accent demanded and the girl sobbed.

Grace looked at Daryl and motioned to the room closest to them with two fingers up. He nodded, knowing they were in there since the first man spoke. She quickly moved to the inside, her feet silent against the floorboards. Daryl followed suit, hanging behind her. She peered through the door slowly, before moving to the other side. Daryl took her spot and peered through.

It was only the two of them, both facing away from the door. Idiots. One of them, a fat one, was standing very close to the door. He could barely see the other guy, but he could see his head. That's all he needed. Grace slung her crossbow over her shoulder and drew her carving knife, taking a deep breath. Her eyes met with Daryl's and he noticed a fire in her eyes. She smiled and raised an eyebrow, biting her lip. _One, _Grace mouthed the words,_ two..._

The hunters moved through the door. Grace got her knife in front of the fat guy's throat and pressed lightly, holding his shoulder with her free hand. "Move suddenly and I'll slit your fucking throat, you fat piece of shit." The fat one put his hands up and Grace grabbed the shotgun. She slung it over her shoulder but didn't move the knife away. Daryl moved a few meters away from Grace, his aim carefully trained on the other guy. He looked at the two hunters with wide eyes, his hands slowly rising in defence. That's when he saw her. Little Sophia, her pale skin now tainted with bruises and dirt. Her clothes covered in blood, dirt and grime. Her hair was a mess. It looked like she hadn't showered for days. Daryl snarled and she looked at him. Her tired, hurt eyes grew wide with shock and relief. She cried out to him and tried to get up. "Don't you move, Sophia. You stay right there, girl, we've got you."

Sophia. They did it. They found her. Grace felt like kicking herself for ever doubting it. The chances were slim, but they defied the odds. Fuck you, Apocalypse.

"You know her?" The Hispanic man asked, pointing at Sophia. "We found her out in the woods a while ago. What are you doin' lettin' a lil girl wander off by herself?"

"You're not in a position to ask questions," Grace snapped, "What are you doing here?"

"First of all," The Hispanic rose from the ground, making a point of putting his revolver on the ground, "I'm Dave and that's Tony."

"Well, Dave," Grace said, peering over Tony's shoulder with a sweet smile which he returned confidently, "Shut the _fuck _up. We're here for a few answers, then the little girl. So save your tongue, or I'll cut it out."

Wow. Daryl smirked as Dave's smile disappeared.

"What are you doing here?"

"Looking for supplies."

"And you decided to take a little girl with you?"

"Yeah, never know when you'll need a small set of hands to fit into tight spaces." A wicked smile broke on his lips and Grace felt Tony vibrate with silent laughter. She pushed the knife harder into his throat which made him stop immediately.

"Why's she covered in bruises and blood?"

"That's how we found her."

Grace let out a small breath of laughter. "Dave, Dave, _Dave_," she smiled at him and shook her head. She became dangerously serious, making Daryl's spine tingle in anticipation, "I'm not a fucking idiot. The bruises are fresh, you sick son of a bitch. Don't look, sweetheart." Sophia covered her eyes. Daryl knew what Grace was going to do. She slit Tony's throat, bright red blood splattered all over her hand and all over Dave and pushed him away from the door as Daryl shot him in the head.

It was over as quickly as it happened. Sophia scrambled up from the floor as Daryl slung his crossbow over his shoulder and knelt down to her with his arms open. She slipped on Tony's blood but he caught her. They clung to each other, Daryl stroked her hair and muttered into her ear as Grace stabbed Tony in the head before drawing the arrow from Dave's head and wiping it on her pants. She took Dave's gun and tucked it into the back of her pants. She attached the arrow to Daryl's crossbow as he held Sophia while she sobbed. Grace liked seeing this side to Daryl. She wondered if he had a wife or girlfriend and any kids before all of this shit happened. It warmed her heart.

"Daryl," Grace touched his shoulder blade gently, "We gotta go. Take the car with Sophia when she's calmed down. I'll go now and ride back, give everyone the news."

He nodded and awkwardly held the little girl as he took the keys. She turned, jogging out of the house to the horse. She had a spring in her step the whole way. She didn't think they would find her, let alone the first time she went looking, let alone _alive. _Grace felt her eyes stinging as she got to the horse. She didn't take her time. As soon as she untied the horse, she threw herself on and they were quickly making their way back towards the camp. She had a weird feeling in her stomach. Excitement. She had found the little girl she was so sure was lost forever, dead, a Walker. Grace tried to disregard the bruises and blood and thought the worst. She could have been raped, beaten, tortured. The poor girl. She would probably never be the same again. Quietly, she didn't care about if the girl would be different than normal. She was just glad that everyone would stop stressing over it and finally have some hope. Finding her was the miracle they needed.

Gunshots rang out. Grace pulled on the reins and slowed the horse to a stop, listening carefully. She prayed it didn't come from the abandoned house. More shots rang out from the direction of the camp.

Grace saw all of the bodies. People crying on the ground, people crying in the arms of their loved ones, those in the group who had a gun were at the front of everyone else, lowering or putting away their guns. Shit. She got off the horse after she passed the gate and ran over to the group.

She stopped next to Dale, who had only just walked up himself, "What happened?"

"Shane open-fired on the barn."

Grace ran her hand through the loose bits of her fringe that had fallen from her ponytail during the ride. She cursed. "So much for wanting to bring good news."

Dale turned to Grace, confused, "Good news?" She nodded, a beautiful glint in her eye. Dale's eyes lit up and they both walked to Carol, who was looking at the dead Walkers with a sad expression. She around to face Grace and Dale, giving them a small smile and looking back to the Walkers. Grace shook her head with a laugh, not understanding how she could look so defeated.

"Carol," Grace said firmly, placing her hands on the older woman's shoulders so she wouldn't turn away again, "We found her."

Lori shot a look at Grace, her eyes wide, "What?"

Most of the group turned at that point, confused. New girl was creating quite a stir. What did she want?

"We found her," Grace said again, louder, "Daryl and I, we found Sophia."

Carol and Carl were the only ones who seemed to be happy about the news.


	8. Chapter 8

**I do not own anything to do with AMC's The Walking Dead. I do own my made up characters. Enjoy.**

**Middlekertz: Thank you very much. Like in the show, Carl, Rick and Daryl were really the only characters who believed that they would find Sophia alive. Since Grace came back with the news just as the group had finished clearing out the barn, it was really just not a good time, as the group was guilty and upset. So the news of finding Sophia was really only appreciated at that point by Carol and Carl :) Sorry for the confusion.**

**BlackRose10: Thank you!**

**FanFicGirl10: That is the impression I was trying to give, yes, but also that it was just bad timing, which will be addressed in this chapter. I will try :) getting a bit busy with work!**

**Feel free to review, everyone. I would love to get your feedback on how I'm doing so far :) Thanks for follows and favourites! **

**Sorry I haven't updated in a while; I've been busy as with work! Here's the next chapter.**

_Fire and Ink_

Everyone stood around the barn filled with guilt – except Grace. With no reason to feel guilty, why would she? No matter what she said to Rick or Shane, not that she would ever talk to Shane unless she had to, neither of them would listen to her so she saw no reason to bother. The Walkers in the barn weren't her people, nor were they even _people_ anymore. Personally, she blamed this all on the Greene family's ignorance and stubborn attitude to the whole world-going-to-shit situation. If they had just accepted the fact that their friends and family were dead, they wouldn't be in this mess. This is why she liked being by herself; there was always drama with others around.

Beth, the youngest of the Greene girls and that Grace barely ever saw, was sobbing in Jimmy's arms. Maggie was holding her father and crying as he remained where he was on the ground. Rick looked absolutely gutted. Shane looked like typical Shane: pissed off and ugly. The two shared a look. Lori held her son, gently stroking his hair. Everyone looked more or less shocked and ashamed.

Beth's sobs were starting to annoy Grace as the young girl got out of Jimmy's embrace, her sobs becoming louder as she made her way over to the Walkers. Rick tried to stop her, shushing her and asking for her to wait, but she almost hit his hand away so he let her go. She knelt down to what looked like a female Walker. Beth pushed the dead Walker male off the woman and knelt down at the woman's head. She rolled the Walker onto her back and called to her mother. It turned out that the Walker wasn't dead – someone had missed their shot and just grazed her cheek. The Walker snarled and grabbed at the young girl, causing her to scream.

Everyone rushed over, but Grace got to her first. Her machete was in the Walker's head before she even realized. Rick had grabbed Beth and dragged her away from the Walker and she just kept crying. Hershel had made his way over to them and held his daughter. Jimmy hesitated at first but then did the same. The Greene family made their way back up to the house and Glenn followed close behind Maggie. Everyone watched them until the door closed; then the attention was focused on Grace. She leant on her back foot slightly, not used to that many people staring at her.

"Where'd you find her?" Shane spat, "We all been combin' these woods every day lookin' for that lil girl and you go out and look _once _and find her?"

"I heard a car door close," Grace was slightly overwhelmed by the staring so she looked at her feet.

"So?"

"_So_ I followed it. Daryl kept telling me that I was going the wrong way and to get back on the trail and that he'd searched there before but I didn't listen. We came across an abandoned house and there was a car out front with the keys in the ignition. We found Sophia..." She trailed off, looking up at Carol with sad eyes, "...and two men." The mother's eyes widened in shock but Grace knew she couldn't skip the details, "I questioned one of them; he said that they'd found her about a week ago."

Rick muttered something about when she'd gone missing and a herd.

"She's covered in blood and fresh bruises; looks like she hasn't showered for a while." Carol's eyes were filled with tears. Dale put a hand on her shoulder and gave a light squeeze, "Dave and Tony can't hurt her anymore, Carol. I made sure of it."

"Where's my baby? Where's Daryl? Why didn't they come with you?" Carol asked.

"They're fine, they're both fine. Daryl had to calm her down so I left to come back here. She was terrified and there was no way she would have come with me since I'm a stranger. They should be back soon in the car we found there."

Carol broke. The tears that weren't quite ready poured down her cheeks. She pulled Grace into her arms and she tensed slightly as the mother cried into her shoulder. The expression on her face must not have been good, because Dale took one look at her and gently pulled Carol away. "Thank you," she managed to choke out through sobs, "thank you so much."

A small half smile tweaked at Grace's lips and she nodded. Gravel crunched loudly from behind Carol and everyone turned. Sophia through herself from the car and ran to her mother, crying and calling out the whole way. Carol did the same. She fell to the ground and held her daughter, cradling her, terrified to let her go and relieved to finally have her back. They cried in each other's arms for a long time.

Daryl got out of the Ute and leaned against the door, crossing his arms over his chest and watched. He had a white flower in his hand. Lori and Carl scrambled from the ground and hugged them too. T-Dog walked up beside Grace and patted her shoulder. She smiled sweetly at him and turned to Daryl who was looking at her. She kept her smile and nodded. He did the same and she found her cheeks burning.

It wasn't as hot as it usually was in the afternoon. Clouds covered every inch of the sky and the wind roared with cool chills. It reminded everyone that winter was coming. It couldn't be taken lightly. There was no way Hershel would let them continue staying at his house for the winter, Grace knew that. She wouldn't either, if it was her house. That made her nervous. What if Daryl suggested that they go back to her house? That was the last thing she wanted. Nothing was sacred or treasured anymore, but she'd damned if she wasn't going to try to protect the sanctity of the home her mother had grown up in. They'd ruin it. Someone would fuck something up and attract Walkers and what she worked so hard to protect would be ruined. She couldn't let them do that to her mother's house.

Dale snapped Grace out of her thoughts as she stood as still as a statue on top of the RV with a rifle in hand. She took watch to separate herself from the tension and time had passed quickly. She visibly straightened and looked down to the older man. His turn for watch – Grace was okay with that. Maybe digging graves for the Greene's family and friends would help her stop thinking about winter. She snickered lightly, slinging the rifle over her shoulder. As she got to the ground, she handed him the gun.

"I'm very proud of you for finding Sophia, Grace, and grateful."

He left Grace where she was, stunned and truly uplifted by his comment. Her father had been proud of her before, but that was when she had done what he wanted and expected her to do. No one wanted or expected her to find Sophia; they were all about ready to give up. But Grace looked when no one wanted or expected her to; she found the lost little girl. It made her feel really good. It warmed her heart to see the look on Carol's face when she looked at her daughter, when she hugged her daughter. Carol couldn't stop herself from crying with happiness and relief when she remembered that her daughter was still alive. Teary eyes were often on Grace, and she smiled sweetly when she caught the gazes. Daryl had been looking at Sophia and Carol a lot – Grace caught him smiling on multiple occasions – but always managed to find himself looking at Grace.

She found Shan and T-Dog digging graves. Grace started digging in T-Dog's grave and kept her mind focused on it. Calloused hands, dirt in her shoes, hair, bra, probably underwear. She didn't care. She had to get the job done. No one spoke; it wasn't the right time to speak, nor could any subject be taken seriously.

Shane stepped out of the grave and leant against his shovel that he'd stuck in the ground. Lori had come over to them with something; Grace didn't know or care what it was. The two shared a long look before everyone stopped working.

"That's it." Shane decided quietly. Grace bit her lip and decided she'd go find the Greene family.

The walk up to the house seemed longer than usual. Gravel crunched under Grace's boots; the noise scratched in her head and made her want to scream. This wasn't her doing, so why did she have to be plagued with guilt by Shane's decision? She was feeling it now. Whatever she felt before was completely gone.

She cursed before she got to the top of the steps and lightly knocked on the door. She bit her lip. Maggie answered the door, a scowl on her face from behind the wire door.

"They're ready if you are."

It was awful. There was tension as thick as smoke in the air and anyone barely said a word. Not many people could, most of the Walkers being friends of the Greene family. They were still too distraught to say much. Everyone parted ways after the family members were laid to rest.

Some of the group spent the rest of the day hauling the rest of the Walkers onto the truck to take them into a field and burn them. Grace helped T-Dog pick up one of the women he'd started dragging while Andrea and Rick lifted another. It took a while, but eventually the back of the truck was piled with bodies. It wasn't a pretty sight. Grace had forgotten that, although some of them had less flesh than others, they were still damn heavy. Dale and Rick started disputing morals and if what Shane did was right or wrong when T-Dog made a comment about it, so Grace just tuned out and sat at the ass of the tray. She made sure she wasn't touching any Walkers, but what did it matter when her skin and clothes were filthy anyway? Andrea sat down next to her apprehensively, but Grace just took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Her head had started throbbing again and her gut twisted. She felt like shit. A sickening noise made by a Walker's arm detaching itself from the shoulder because of decay almost made Grace throw up. Thoughts of not eating since breakfast made her happy.

Andrea called out to T-Dog so he stopped the car. She jogged over to the arm and picked it up, jogging back to the truck and throwing it on top of the pile. Grace pulled a face and gagged. The blonde woman thumped the tray and the car took off again.

Shane had a pile of branches and logs set up in a small mound. He gave Grace a look that she couldn't quite decode before T-Dog got out of the car. The three grabbed the bodies from the truck and piled them onto the mound. The sight never settled any thoughts in her head. Thoughts that Grace wanted to shut into the farthest and darkest corners of her mind. She momentarily wondered where Daryl was and what he might be doing. Maybe she'd find him later and they could go hunting. She enjoyed his company, content with his quiet nature. That quality caught her eye first. Well, technically the first thing that caught her eye was the arrow through his side and the blood, but that didn't really matter.

"You ready?" Shane asked.

"Yeah," T huffed, feeling just how heavy dead-weight dead people could be, "man, how many times am I gon have to do this?"

"Time and time again," Grace muttered. It was meant to be to herself, but the other two heard. Shane, T and Grace all shared a pained look. The two men poured gasoline over the bodies and on two sticks with rags tied to the ends. Grace struck a match and watched the flame burn the small stick of wood before lighting one of the rags. They men touched the rags together and threw them onto the fire. It lit quickly and burned red hot. The smell made Grace gag again and T gave her a look. Shane just stared at the flames, looking crazy and a little sad. It was his decision and now he had to live with the repercussions.

Hershel had gone missing, so Rick and Glenn went to find him. After his disappearing act, his youngest daughter went into shock and almost killed herself as she pulled cutlery and plates down with her. It had been a very long and stressful day. Lori was stressing out the most, which wouldn't have been good for the baby. Grace saw Lori holding a gun and a map and took a car. There was never much conversation at dinner and that night was no exception. But there were more smiling faces than normal despite the day's events. Finding Sophia was just what everyone needed to lift their spirits and give them hope that not everything is doomed. Grace shot a look at Shane. Something good happens and there's finally a moment to be happy, but he makes one cock-assed decision and fucks everything up, but not this time. Grace frowned at her plate.

After dinner there was commotion about Lori being missing, but Shane had found her and brought her back. She'd had a run in with a few Walkers but was completely intact and wasn't bitten or scratched – that was always a plus – just a cut on her lip and head. Grace didn't have watch that night, so she was grateful to finally be able to get a solid night's sleep. The sleeping pills got her through the night but left a groggy feeling in the morning. It was starting to affect her body. Her joints were aching and muscles felt tight. Lifting and aiming a gun had become a painful task; holding it steady was nearly impossible. Couldn't take pain killers to solve it either; they were having the same effect. It sucked.

Grace thought about Daryl at dinner; the fact that he wasn't there. She hoped to find him in the tent as she'd brought some dinner for him. Maybe they could celebrate finding Sophia. She was sure the little girl and her mother would be celebrating in some way and that everyone else would be too. It would just take a little bit more time to get over that day's events. Soon they can all celebrate the safe return of one of the two only children in camp. It might not have been the ideal way for them to grow up, but at least they had the chance to do so. Not like some children.

Grace ducked into the tent and found Daryl in there like she'd hoped. He looked up at her inquisitively and sat up straight when she handed his food down to him.

"What do you want?" He asked, picking up the food with his fingers. Grace crawled over to her favourite bag and rifled through it for a few seconds. Daryl took a few moments to steal a glance at her ass before his head went back down to his food. Stupid. Grace found what she was looking for and bit her lip. Daryl looked up and found her holding another bottle of Jack. How much fucking alcohol did she bring? "You have a problem, girl."

He meant it.

"Fuck off," she brushed off his comment with a smile; unscrewing the cap and handing it to him, "This is celebratory drinking, because we have something to celebrate."

"Yeah?"

For a moment it sounded like he didn't care.

"_Yeah_, Dixon. We found that little girl, saved her from bad people, _killed_ those bad people, and you brought her back to her mother. I definitely think that teamwork deserves some sort of commemorative drinking."

Daryl snickered, but a half smirk played on his lips as he shook his head. "You're a strange girl." He took the bottle and took a swig. Tasted good with the food she gave him.

She smiled at him and took a swig.

He knew he shouldn't have accepted the drink. Dwyer had a drinking problem. Whether it was something that just came about because the dead walked with the living or if it was something that had been established throughout her shitty life, Daryl didn't know. He wanted to kick himself for going along with her and wanted her to snap out of it as quickly as possible. It was dangerous and she was bringing him down with her because he cared. Grace was just about the only person in the camp he could tolerate aside from Rick; she knew how to look after herself, knew how to fight, hunt. He didn't have to worry about her unless she had alcohol with her. As long as there was something in that bag, he cared. Though he'd never tell her.

Grace lifted a bit of her shirt to scratch her ribs and yawned. Daryl noticed how her pale skin was painted with some writing. He also noticed how her stomach sank and her ribs stuck out a little. Girl was too thin.

"You got ink?" He asked.

Grace stopped mid-scratch and pulled up her shirt just below her bra. _Nothing lasts forever_ was scribbled in fancy writing. He laughed internally. That tattoo will. Boots came off and pant legs were rolled up. A dead stem plagued with thorns wrapped around her ankle, leading a trail to a dead rose on the top of her foot. A sleeve pulled back revealed a worn arrow with a blunt and chipped tip. He liked that one. She turned her back to him and lifted her shirt to her neck. Between her shoulder blades was a set of devil wings. Above them was _Hope_. The writing looked like it was carved into her skin, like cuts made to scar into a word. Hope was her mother's name. On her hand was a small star.

"That's it. I was going to get more but the whole outbreak happened." He nodded. "Do you have any?" He couldn't show her his tattoos without showing her the scars. He shook his head, resulting in a raised-eyebrow look from her. "Really? I wouldn't have thought that. I guess I'm more badass than you." A cheeky smile and a wink caused Daryl to smile down at his empty plate.

"Nah, girl, that ain't possible."

"Why not?" The look remained.

"Badass don't suit you."

"Oh yeah? What does then?"

"I dunno, but it ain't badass."

"I can be badass! The way we stormed those jackasses today was pretty badass."

He snickered and looked at the bottle in his hand. It was more than half gone. "I guess it was," he admitted with a chuckle.

"There we go; I'm totally badass." Daryl looked up at her smiling proudly. He liked the way her eyes wrinkled as she smiled. She couldn't be older than 25; was he allowed to think those things about her? The wrinkles and worn face were from years of a hard life, emotionally drained . Daryl could relate to that more than she'll know. Although he felt comfortable around her, there were going to be walls around his life that would never be broken down, would never falter.

The bottle was empty before anyone spoke again. "... A problem..." Grace muttered, dropping the bottle near her rose foot.

"Speak up, girl."

"I know I have a problem." She still muttered, but louder this time. Daryl let out a small breath and tried to look at her face, which was filled with sadness and aimed at the ground. "I've had battles with myself for years, Daryl. This is another I can overcome."

For the first time as the two of them went to sleep, things weren't quite comfortable. Grace went to sleep almost instantly, facing away from him. He turned towards her and shuffled a little closer. He felt sorry for her, but she wouldn't want that, so settled for where he was. If he got too close, she might wake up.


	9. Chapter 9

**I do not own anything to do with AMC's The Walking Dead. I do own my made up characters. Enjoy.**

**Middlekertz: You're very welcome! And thank you very much; that truly means a lot. I see what you did there ;)**

**FanFicGirl10: I'm glad they are too. I wanted to change it up a little from the series :) They're warming up to each other, ooohhhh ;) Thank you!**

**Feel free to review, everyone. I would love to get your feedback on how I'm doing so far :) Thanks for follows and favourites! **

_Fireworks_

Rick, Glenn and Hershel didn't get back until the morning. Shane was starting to get everyone ready for a search and rescue type mission, giving every able pair of hands a gun. He and T-Dog threw packs in the back of the Hyundai. The two hunters were equipped with shotguns, crossbows and usual gear. Everyone else looked naked with just their guns, although someone was going to get the rifle. Grace wanted it. She went over to the RV to see if she could find another canteen when Dale and Andrea stormed out of it.

"Are you sure you wanna risk it?" Dale asked, following Andrea, "You might not make it back." Grace heard the slight urgency in his voice. Andrea brushed it off, as usual, which made Grace frown.

"I'll be fine."

"And with Shane at the helm I wouldn't be too sure. He's lost people before."

Grace walked over to them, "He's right, Andrea."

They both looked at the new girl; Andrea looked annoyed and Dale looked confused. Andrea looked back to Dale, almost ignoring Grace, "What are you insinuating?"

"He doesn't want Rick back – or Hershel," Dale cast a look at the group near the car, "With them gone he's got everything he wants and no one to tell him otherwise."

"He's not good for the group," Grace reinforced quietly.

Andrea wouldn't have a bar of it, "Shane has done more to keep this group alive than anybody, including Rick." She nodded as she spoke as if it would sway the new girl and older man's opinions. It didn't.

"You can't possibly believe that."

Andrea raised her eyebrows and nodded. "I do," she stared at Grace, "Come on, we have to go."

Dale watched the two women go with a frown. Grace shared his expression and followed a few paces behind. Daryl looked over at her as she came next to him and handed her a canteen. She took it, nodding her thanks.

Something moved from far away in the corner of her eye. Squinting at the light, they all saw the red top half of a car speeding along the driveway. The group started moving towards the car as it sped towards them and stopped quickly in front of the house, flicking dirt and dust. Lori came out of the house holding Carl's hand, but as soon as his father came out of the car, Carl sprinted over to him. Lori embraced her husband. It was a nice sight, which Shane looked on to with a sort of hatred. If Grace could see it, she was sure that other people could. Hershel and Glenn emerged from the car, where Maggie went straight past her father to reunite with her sort-of-boyfriend. Hershel didn't seem too impressed as he stormed towards the house.

"Patricia, prepare the shed for surgery."

Surgery? No one looked hurt and surely Beth didn't need surgery.

"Are you hurt?" Lori asked her husband.

"No but what happened to you?" Rick asked, caressing her face. She looked down and his hand fell slightly.

"I was in a car accident."

"Accident? How?"

"I went looking for you."

"Snuck out on her own," Shane interjected, causing Lori to look away from the two men in annoyance, "I brought her back."

"Are you crazy?" Rick hissed, "You could have been–"

"Who the hell is that?" T-Dog pointed to the car and everyone looked.

"That's Randall." Glenn said nonchalantly, as if bringing an unconscious, blinded, possibly dangerous stranger to their camp was no big deal.

...

"We couldn't just leave him behind," Rick stated, leaning again the dining room chair, "he would have bled out if he even lived that long."

"It's gotten bad in town," Glenn muttered to the group who were sitting at the dining table or situated around the room, leaning against walls or standing up straight. Glenn and Maggie shared a look but the Korean broke it quickly.

"What do we even do with him?" Andrea asked the question that everyone had on their minds.

"I repaired his calf muscle the best I can," Hershel walked in and cut through the conversation. He was wiping his hands, "But he'll probably have nerve damage. He won't be on his feet for at least a week."

"When he is, we get him a canteen, take him out to the main road, send him on his way."

"Isn't that the same as leaving him for the Walkers?"

The fly screen door opened with a small creek and Daryl walked through, closing it quietly. His eyes caught Grace, who was leaning against the fire place behind Carol, and he nodded to her. Grace nodded back. The awkwardness was gone. Daryl crossed his arms and leant against the far wall.

"He'll have a fighting chance." Rick claimed.

"Just gonna let him go?" Shane asked, "He knows where we are."

"He was blind folded the whole way here, he's not a threat."

"'Not a threat', how many of them were there? You killed three of their men, took one of 'em hostage, but they just ain't gonna come looking for him."

"They left him for dead. _No one_ is looking."

"We should still post a guard." T-Dog suggested. Grace agreed.

"He's out cold right now," Hershel said, "Will be for hours."

"You know what? I'm gonna go and get him some flowers and candy. Look at this, folks, we back in Fantasy Land."

"You know we haven't even dealt with what you did at my barn yet. So let me make this perfectly clear once and for all: this is _my farm_. Now I wanted you gone; Rick talked me out of it, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. So do us both a favour; keep your mouth shut."

Grace choked on her laughter and Shane shot her a dirty look. She didn't even try to hide how much Hershel's comments and Shane's idiocy amused her. Hershel had told Shane what most of the group had wanted to tell him for a long time, _shut the fuck up,_ but the older gentleman had put it more politely. Shane backed off and sighed, his boots thumping loudly against the wooden floor as he stormed off through the door.

"Look," Rick started the topic again and everyone focused on him, "We're not going to do anything about it today; let's just cool off."

Andrea stormed off, no doubt after Shane. Grace shifted her weight from one foot to the other and headed outside as everyone else did. She noticed Carol giving Daryl a look, to which he returned with an uncomfortable look and pushed the wire door open with a bit too much force. Grace followed him, her pace matching her quickened heart beat. Carol followed him too, much to Grace's chagrin. Carol would have been about six steps behind Grace, who was pretty much on Daryl's heels. But Grace stopped and turned to Carol, who almost walked past her. A firm hand wrapped around Carol's forearm. The mother's heartbeat quickened.

"Carol," the soft voice almost couldn't be heard underneath her heartbeat drumming in her ears, "I want to talk to you."

"Yes?" Carol asked, short with Grace, who was getting in her way unintentionally. Carol wanted to talk to Daryl about finding Sophia, about how grateful she was to him, ask about the cuts and bruises. Maybe she could get answers out of him seeing as her own daughter wouldn't talk to her.

A small, sweet smile tweaked on the younger girl's lips, "I told you we'd find her, didn't I?" Carol's eyes stung and she smiled sadly. The mother nodded. "I'm sorry I got angry at you."

Carol sniffed, "I'm sorry for doubting you. I'm sorry for giving up on my own daughter. I'm sorry I snapped," she almost fell to the ground but Grace held her up, "I'm so sorry."

"She's fine now. That's all that counts."

"My Sophia wasn't fine. What did they do to her, Grace?"

Grace bit her lip, staring at the ground pensively. "When we found her, one of the two men with her was telling her to be quiet and to lie still," Carol let out a cry and fell to the ground completely, so Grace sat down with her and held her, "The other one slapped her and told her to shut up when she made a noise. We saved her at the right time, Carol, and she's absolutely fine now. She's back here with you, her mother, so you have to be strong for her, okay? If you're not strong then she won't be either. It's times like these where you have to show her that it's okay to talk about these things and to cry about them. She needs to know that you'll be strong and that she has your support."

Grace held Carol, stroking her back, before Lori came along and helped her up. Lori thanked the young woman silently with a short nod. Grace could see how weary and concerned Lori was for her friend and she could understand that.

Grace didn't feel the need to follow Daryl anymore. She set off towards the barn. It's where Rick and Hershel had agreed to keep Randall before they decided what to do with him. When Grace got in there, he made a distressed noise. Couldn't say or see much with duck tape over his mouth and a blind fold covering his eyes. He leant against the wall of the shed, his legs and hands bound in rope. Randall was attempting to push his way backwards, maybe trying to get through the wall. Grace didn't know, but she thought it was funny. Not like it would do him any good either. Someone would just find him making a break for it and bring him back in. He'd be really unlucky if Shane found him – he'd execute him on the spot.

Grace made her way over to Randall and crouched in front of him. She put a soft hand on his cheek and shushed him gently. He calmed down soon after. Grace lifted the blindfold to reveal his dark eyes, staring up at Grace in horror. She looked back down at them with warmth and she knew he saw it. The duck tape came away. Grace moved from in front of him to lean against a support beam.

"Hello, Randall."

He looked at her with the same fear in his eyes.

"I wanna ask you some questions, Randall." She said softly.

"I'm not like them! I'm not like those guys I was with!"

"Shut the fuck up," she demanded, that soft tone layered with spite, "And answer my questions. Do you know a little girl by the name of Sophia?"

"Who?"

"_Sophia_, Randall. Do I need to cut your ears open so you can hear me clearly?"

Randall couldn't tell if she was joking or not but he shook his head, staring at the machete attached to her hip and the knife to her thigh. "No, I don't."

Grace sighed, "Why did you attack those people at the bar?"

"We didn't attack your people; they attacked us."

"Randall," Grace snapped, stepping off the beam, "Don't fuckin' test me."

"I'm not!"

"Then why did you attack those people at the bar."

"We didn't! Your people attacked first."

Grace took one step forward and slammed her boot into his chest. "I told you not to fucking test me." She snarled as he groaned and gasped for breath. She waited.

"We were looking for our friends."

"Why?"

"They'd been gone for a real long time."

"Were their names Dave and Tony?"

Randall stared up at her. God he was ugly, she decided. She couldn't make a visible mark on his ugly mug, though. No one could know she was in there. She would get in trouble. But damn, she was going to make him hurt; make him dread seeing her face again.

"Were. Their names. Dave. And. Tony?"

"I'm not like them! I'm nothing like them at all!"

"So you wouldn't kidnap a little girl so you can beat on her and rape her?"

"No! I swear!" He was shouting. She cringed.

"I thought I told you earlier to shut the fuck up." Grace kicked him in the shoulders and chest, a few landing on his stomach. Most of her kicks aimed at his legs. Her knife found its way out of its holder and into her hand, pressed against Randall's neck. "Bet you don't like it when a girl beats on you. And I'm sure as hell you wouldn't like it if this knife cut you, or I raped you with it."

Randall cried. Grace laughed. She gagged him again and pulled the blindfold over his eyes as tears cascaded down his face and he groaned in pain. Before she left, she punched the wood next to Randall's head. He cried again, louder, the fact that it was muffled made it even more hilarious. Grace stood again, her heart beating in her ears. She was running on adrenalin now and needed to kill something or hunt or just _do something._ She knew her fist should have been stinging with pain, but she just shook her hand and walked out the door, itching for something to do. Maybe she could practise fighting someone. Maybe Shane. She'd love to have the chance to beat the shit out of him and she didn't doubt that he didn't object to hitting a woman. Maybe Daryl? Nah, he wouldn't do it.

No, she knew where she could focus her energy. Somewhere positive. She couldn't let herself become negative and violent like Michael. Grace settled for Tai Chi out front of the barn, using the slow movements to be calm, even out her breath and calm her heartbeat. It was a beautiful sight that an onlooking Carl was intrigued in. He wanted her to teach him that, but his stupid mom only wanted him to learn Math. He hated Math. Carl wanted to learn how to fight!

...

Daryl kept his head down at dinner. Every time he looked up from under his lashes Carol was looking at him. He didn't really like the look Carol was giving him. The older woman looked sad, remorseful, and her eyes always fell back to her daughter. He'd looked at Grace sometimes, and she'd always be staring at Carol staring at him. It was a vicious triangle of staring. He wondered why Grace was staring at Carol until her eyes fell to the little girl sitting next to her mother. Grace had had her hands in her lap, but when she looked at Sophia she'd rubbed her right fist. It was bruised and red. What had she done to herself?

Daryl wasn't the only one who saw her fist. The old man saw it too, and he looked very concerned look; eyes wide. But Grace didn't see either of them staring, so she put her hand back in her lap and ate using her left hand.

"Hey, Grace," Carl had piped up from across the table to her. She looked up from her dinner with a small smile, "I saw you doing that karate stuff earlier, which must mean you know how to fight. Can you teach me how to fight?"

"That's not my decision, little buddy," Grace decided upon meeting Lori's distressed eyes, "You have to ask your mom first."

Carl looked to his mother.

"Heck no."

Carl's head sunk in defeat but most of the adults laughed. Rick ruffled his son's hair. Grace and Dale hid their small smiles. Daryl scowled, concerned for his friend. Friend? He could call her that and not have a problem with it. Grace found him and let her in her house to eat her food – she even used her own supplies to help him out. When he brought her back, she again shared her supplies with everyone else and was helpful, could be put to good use. Don't know if she can clean, but she can cook okay and use a gun and fight. The only problem was her addiction.

It was late when Grace got back to the tent. She had been helping Maggie, Patricia, Lori and Carol with the dishes. They asked about Grace and Daryl finding Sophia and Carol cried again. No one could tell that they were sad tears because of what the mother had heard from the hunter earlier that day but Grace let it go. It was no good making a big deal out of it by telling everyone. Sophia would tell her mother in her own time.

Grace saw Daryl walking back to their tent with her drug and alcohol bag and crossbow over his shoulder. She quickened her pace, angry, and snatched it off his shoulder. The once familiar noise of glass bottles and plastic containers clinking together was gone. It was silent. Grace flipped the bag upside down and threw it to the ground when nothing came out.

Breathing deeply, shaking slightly, hands clenching painfully into fists.

"Where the fuck is my stuff, Dixon?"

Daryl walked right past her and into their tent. She followed him.

"I said I could deal with this on my own."

"Yeah, well, I took care of it for you."

"I don't need you to look after me, Dixon."

"You can't even look after yourself!" He spat, scowling at her, "You don't eat enough; I could see your ribs pokin' out when you showed me your tattoo. You down alcohol at any moment you can when no one's lookin' or with me for some sick idea of fun. You pop pills to get to sleep and wake up feelin' like shit. You pop even more pills when you're hurtin'; you can't handle pain. And what the fuck happened to your hand? Can't fix that one with pain killers now, girl."

The same fist that had slammed into the wood next to Randall's head connected with Daryl's cheek. It hurt him, but he'd never admit it. It knocked him back slightly, but when he looked back at her with fire in his eyes, she looked at him the exact same. It was almost the same look she had when they were at that abandoned house. She shook her hand and made a face as she rubbed her knuckles. Behind the poker face it had hurt her too.

Daryl smirked.

Grace shoved him in response, "Fuck you, Dixon. I don't need this shit." She went to grab her bags but he grabbed her wrist. She tried to hit him again, but he caught her other wrist.

"Would you fuckin' _stop?_ I'm tryin' to help you."

"I don't need you to fucking babysit me."

"Shut up and listen to me, girl, and don't hit me neither or you'll get it." He lied about the last part. He'd never hit a woman. Not even if that woman was beating the shit out of him like this one was. He'd stop her, yes, but he'd never hit her back. It was wrong; something his brother would do.

He let go of her hands and they fell to her sides, fists still clenched. Daryl would never admit it, but she looked hot being all mad and feisty. He liked seeing that fire in her eyes. "You helped me out when I was in trouble, so now I'm helpin' you."

"You want to help me out?" She asked, "You should have let me sort this shit out myself."

"When did you plan on doin' that, exactly?"

For the first time since she saw him, her eyes unlocked from his cold blue gaze and fell to the floor. Her shoulders sagged and she relaxed. The strong fighting stance had dropped. Truth was that she was exhausted and pained by the ordeals of that day. Fighting with Andrea, the group fighting about Randall, talking to Carol, beating the shit out of Randall, and now this. Physically and mentally exhausting. She just wanted to sleep for a week, maybe two. Maybe then the hurt will stop.

"I don't know." She admitted, sinking to the ground. She tucked her knees to her chest and rested her chin on bony knees.

"I poured all of the liquor out and just left the bottles in the forest. I gave the pills to Rick to give to Hershel," Grace looked up with a scared expression, "It's okay, he don't know they're yours. Rick didn't ask any questions and said he'd give 'em to the ol' man. You ain't the only one who needs 'em, girl." Daryl poked his abdomen with a small smile. It was still causing him pain? Poor guy.

Grace sighed and ran a hand through her long hair. Daryl wanted to; it looked so soft. But he didn't. He rethought that 'friend' thing. Friends don't exactly try to beat the shit out of each other. He sat down in front of her and grabbed her hand.

"What did you do to it?"

"Punched your iron, ugly mug," she answered with a cheeky smile.

"I meant besides that." He shared her smile.

"I went to the barn and asked Randall some questions. When he didn't answer..."

"You beat the shit out of him?"

Grace nodded, "Yupp."

The two hunters stared at each other for a few seconds, all being forgotten, and laughed quietly together.

"You're tough, girl. I'll give you that."

"You know I'm badass."

"Fine... you're badass."


	10. Chapter 10

**I do not own anything to do with AMC's The Walking Dead. I do own my made up characters. Enjoy.**

**FanFicGirl10: Carol's honestly one of my least favourite characters. But to answer your question, I've developed the storyline so that in Daryl and Grace finding Sophia, Carol becomes quite fond of Daryl, if not more. That's why the weird looks and stuff. Thank you! Here it is :)**

**Feel free to review, everyone. I would love to get your feedback on how I'm doing so far :) Thanks for follows and favourites! **

**And sorry it's taken me so long! I've been super busy again with work. Might have a full time job soon. **

_Judge_

Daryl paced in front of Randall; his red and bloodied fists clenched. The hunter threw his fist into Randall's face, sending the prisoner to the floor. He let out a loud noise as a gush of wind was knocked out of him when he hit the wood. It felt cool on his throbbing jaw but the feeling was short lived when the hunter punched in the exact same spot again with a sickening crack. This time the wood collided with Randall's head as well and provided no kind of relief. The prisoner was aching all over. Bruises were forming on his chest, legs and shoulder from where that girl had beat on him; he could feel them as he struggled to sit upright and with every breath he took. He didn't want to see her ever again.

Three strong right hooks to the cheek and Randall was spitting blood. It was only a little satisfying.

Randall gasped for breath, "I told you..." He rested his head on the concrete, wishing for a moment that the hunter would stop. But Randall knew that he had to hold on as long as he could, because the hunter wouldn't stop.

"You told me shit," Daryl lunged forward and grabbed Randall's shirt, pulling him up and pushing him against the wooden wall. Daryl resumed pacing in front of the prisoner, not taking his cold blue eyes off him once.

"I barely knew those guys! I met 'em on the road."

Daryl ignored him. "How many in your group?"

Randall took laboured breaths and didn't answer quickly enough for Daryl's liking. The hunter pulled out his knife and the prisoner panicked.

"Nonononono, come on, man!"

Daryl slammed the knife down, wedging it into the wood directly next to Randall's injured leg. The prisoner almost yelled out.

"How many?" Daryl spat.

"Thirty! Thirty guys."

"Where?" Daryl pulled off the bandage around Randall's cut up leg. He wasn't gentle either. Randall's cry was louder than the ripping noise.

"I don't know, I swear!" Randall cried through gritted teeth, watching the hunter ready his knife at the top of the cut in his leg. "We never in any place for more than a night!"

"Y'all plan on stayin' local?"

"I don't know! The left me _behind_." Randall couldn't stress that point enough. He had no idea where they are. The group could have moved already.

"You ever pick off a scab?"

"Come on, man! I'm trying to cooperate!"

"You start real slow at first," Daryl got right in Randall's face, causing the prisoner to close his eyes and make scared noises, "But sooner or later you just gotta rip it off."

"Okay! Okay. They have weapons. Heavy stuff: automatics..." He trailed off and started to stutter as Daryl repositioned himself and held his grip on the knife and Randall's leg. "I didn't do anything!"

Before Daryl could continue his interrogation, the door to the barn came open and light spilled in. Both men looked up and squinted against the sun. A tall, thin silhouette of a woman stepped into the barn. She kicked the door shut with her foot, which killed the light. Standing there was the woman that had beaten Randall the day before, staring down at him with a blank expression. He could feel his bruises again and started moving, attempting to get out of the hunter's grip and get away from the crazy bitch.

Daryl turned back to the prisoner and punched him in the face. He stopped instantly. They were both crazy; he saw it in both of their eyes.

"Your boys shot at my boys. Try to take this farm? You just went a long for the ride? You tryin' to tell me that you're innocent?"

"Yes!" Randall sighed and looked both the hunters in the eye, "These people took me in. Not just guys, a whole group of 'em."

Daryl got up and started pacing again. Grace leant back against the wall, crossing her arms just like she had done the day before against the support beam. Randall shivered.

"Men and women just like you people! Thought I might have a better chance with them, y'know? But," Randall swallowed, the memories of his group's transgressions coming back to him as his head spun from the beating, "We go out, scavenge. Just the men. One night, we found this little campsite. A man and his two daughters – teenagers, y'know? Really young... Real cute," The prisoner looked up and met the hunter's cold blue eyes from over his shoulder. Daryl stood side on and glanced at Grace. Her gaze hadn't shifted from Randall, but she didn't look so expressionless anymore. She looked scared.

"Their daddy had to walk while these guys, they... and they didn't even kill 'em afterwards! They just made him watch... his daughters... they just left 'em there. But I didn't touch those girls. I swear, I ain't–" Daryl kicked the air out of Randall's lungs. The hunter stood back and stared coldly as Randall got his breath back. "You gotta believe me, man. I'm not like that." Randall almost cried. "I ain't like that." Randall leant his head back, bumping the wood slightly. Not that it even mattered. The hard wood felt like a cushion compared to the hunter's punched and kicks. "Please... Please. You gotta believe me." Daryl kicked him again and wasn't quite satisfied with his cries anymore. In fact, they were annoying him. Daryl punched him again to shut him up.

Grace started out the door and Daryl followed. Out in the light he could see her long brown hair let loose, swaying as she walked, shorts and a black singlet paired with her usual boots. She looked good, and it made Daryl nervous that she'd walked into the barn looking like that when he told them that story. If he was telling the truth about their weapons and they found the camp, they'd be in trouble.

They headed back towards camp; Daryl ignored his aching fist. "Why'd you watch?" He asked.

"To see if I would scare him a little. Turns out I scared him a lot without even having to touch him."

Daryl snickered and looked back to the camp. Rick and Shane were standing together, addressing the rest of the group. He had no doubt in his mind that it was about what to do with Randall. Rick gave a nod to Daryl and everyone turned.

"Our boy there's got a gang – thirty men. Heavy artillery and they ain't lookin' to make friends. They roll through here and our boys are dead... and our women will wish they were."

"What did you do?" Carol asked, her arms crossed over her chest.

Daryl remembered his and Grace's bloody, aching fists. He looked down at it quickly and went to leave. Grace spoke up, "We all had a little chat." Grace was smarter at that moment, as she'd mimicked Carol's stance to hide her own fist. She would get in trouble if Rick or Shane found out.

Carol's gaze followed Daryl and she frowned as he walked off.

"No one goes near this guy."

"Rick," The sheriff's wife made her way to him, "What are you going to do?"

"We have no choice," he said to her quietly, then addressing the whole group, "He's a threat. We have to eliminate the threat."

"So you're just gunna kill him?" Dale asked.

The whole group looked at him except Shane, who was looking at Grace's elbow where her red-raw fist was hiding. He knew she'd gone to see Randall. Shane had seen her go there after he'd been kicked out of Hershel's house. Sitting in front of the fire cleaning his gun for the fourth time before everyone came out. He didn't like Grace; didn't trust her. She was definitely hiding something about her past, maybe her family. Shane watched when Daryl walked off with Grace not far behind and then Carol not far behind her. But Grace had stopped and talked to Carol, probably to lure her attention away from the redneck hunter so she could have him all to herself. Nothing could fool Shane; he saw the way Daryl and Grace were around each other. Hell, she may as well be a tits, ass and pussy version of him; the way she carried her crossbow almost 24/7 and insisted on hunting and being a goody-two-shoes, finding that little girl and Sophia. Shane's jaw clenched. He did not trust her at all. That girl was planning something; he was convinced. Why the hell would she want to be with that redneck idiot anyway?

"It's settled," Rick concluded, giving the old man a stern look, "we'll do it today."

Rick walked away from the group and Dale charged after him. Shane could clearly see that Grace wanted to go with the old man, but he didn't know why and didn't care. Shane walked to the RV and climbed onto the roof, taking over T-Dog's watch. That's about all he was allowed to do these days, with Officer Friendly being in charge now.

...

A rumble of thunder echoed through the heavens mid-afternoon, but any hopes for rain to quell the disgusting heat were forgotten as the sun broke through the dark clouds. Andrea had agreed to watch Randall for Dale to make sure no one – especially Shane – would get to him. She leant against a barrel just right of the door, thankful that it was in the shade. Randall started making noises after he figured out someone was there and asked for water. He didn't know who it was but he hoped it wasn't either one of those hunters. They were terrifying. They'd probably cut out his tongue if he said anything else.

Andrea quietly pulled her gun from her hip and held it hesitantly towards the ground, sort of ready. It comforted her to have her father's gun. She liked feeling safe in their pathetic excuse for a community. The way things were going, there was more of a chance that she'd have to use it against one of the people in the group rather than a Walker.

"They're gonna kill me, right?" Randall asked, seeing the sad face of an unfamiliar, blonde-haired woman. Her expression changed as she looked through the crack in the door. She met his gaze for a moment before her eyes dropped and she looked away again. Yes, they will. But she wouldn't tell him.

Shane walked across the barn and Andrea came into his view. He snorted.

"Dale, huh? Already put you on death watch? Lemme ask you something: Say I wanna go in there right now, I just want to take care of this – you gon stop me?"

"I had a good teacher."

"Yeah," Shane muttered, "So what? You buyin' the _Dale Side_ story?" He asked, crouching down to play with some dead grass.

"Andrea sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. "I told him I was with you on this."

"So you're just out here for him then, huh? That's cute. You see what's happening, doncha? These guys ain't gon go through with this. I'm tellin' you, they gonna pussy out. When they do, we got a big problem on our hands. Lemme ask you something: whenever we have a problem out here, who do you think is behind it?"

"Some might say you are." Grace piped up from behind them. Shane shot her a look and continued to Andrea. It's not like she'd go blabbing. She only just got here. If Dwyer knew what was good for her, she'd know to keep her mouth shut.

"I say it's the guys who make up the rules. The ones who always have the answers even when their answers always prove to be wrong."

"So what are you going to do? Rick's the leader of this group; it's Hershel's farm." Andrea said.

"I think we outta change that."

"What are you going to do; lock them in a room and take their guns?"

Shane gave her a look. He didn't have to say anything to her.

"I dunno, that could get out of hand."

"No, see it won't. I won't let it. Listen, I don't want anybody to get hurt, okay? Rick's my friend, Hershel... he's alright by me."

Grace didn't believe it, "And Dale?" The hunter asked.

"Dale's got a big mouth, Dwyer, but he's harmless. Just like you are."

Grace snickered and walked off, shaking her head. Fuck those two – she _was_ going to take over for Andrea but screw her if she's on Shane's side.

Finally. Shane fucking hated that nosy bitch. He wouldn't mind shooting her.

Grace walked far away from the camp, not in any particular direction but away from the forest and people who pissed her off. Maybe she could find a lone tree to sit under or something. She looked up at the dark clouds rolling in and felt the cool wind bite at her pale skin. She rubbed some warmth into the goosebumps on her arms hoping that they'd go away and dispel the chill that was climbing up her spine. They'll all have to start putting on more layers since winter was so close now.

Grace came across a tower made of bricks. Well, one couldn't really call it a tower, as it was about two and a half Daryl's high, but it was high enough for her to have to squint up at the sky to look at how tall it was. There was a tall tree next to it that had bloomed well, providing more than enough adequate shade for one woman.

There was a bunch of wood next to it and Grace smiled. Maybe she could stay out there later that night, just have some time to herself with a campfire and her own thoughts – and no one to piss her off – then she could come back as right as rain later.

Rain. The clouds she'd forgotten were rolling in threatened all plans of a fire that night. Fuck it all. Nevertheless, Grace sat down at the roots of the tree and relished in the solitude. She started sharpening a stick with her knife to make some shitty but good-enough arrows. If it had a semi-sharp end, it could be used to kill a Walker. Hell, even if it wasn't sharp it's got a good chance against a Walker. Hit it in the head a couple of times and _bam!_ They fall to the ground like a fat sack of dead Walker meat. She shivered at the thought of referring to it as meat.

It was dark and starting to rain lightly before Grace decided to head back. She only made about six arrows. The sticks she found amongst all the wood were either too thin or too thick for her to actually make anything out of and she broke a couple of perfectly sized sticks because she got caught up in her daydreaming. She wondered briefly where Daryl was and what he was doing. She felt like she should tell him about what Shane said. It didn't sound like it would go through, based on the fact that only Andrea and Shane were in on it and would be the only ones in on it. If they went through with it when it was clear that they were outnumbered, then Shane was even crazier than Grace thought he was.

...

"Live or die, you don't care what happens to Randall?" Dale asked the hunters. Grace had found Daryl by the campfire after she emerged from their tent in a hoodie. As they spoke about nothing in particular they'd moved from the campfire, finding themselves leaning by a tree just out of earshot out of the rest of the group. The rain had picked up, but it didn't bother them too much. Dale had noticed the two hunters separate themselves from the group and made his way over to them with the prisoner on his mind. He thought Grace would back him up – she had to.

Daryl shrugged, frowning after he remembered what he'd extorted out of the slimy prick that morning, "Nope."

"No, me neither."

"Then why not stand with me, try to save the kid's life? If it really doesn't matter one way or the other."

"Dale," Grace looked at the older man she'd gotten to know sympathetically, "You have to understand that he came from a bad group. Randall said he was nothing like them but this world has changed people. He might not have been like them before, but he sure is now for getting mixed up in their group."

"What could be so bad about them?" The older man asked, crossing his arms. He was determined to save this young man's life.

Grace looked to Daryl for some support, but he just turned to look at the fire. The huntress sighed and leant in closer to the older man, "His group raped two young teenagers while they made the father watch."

Dale's expression sunk and his hands fell to his sides.

"They're not a friendly bunch, Dale." Grace's eyes were filled with sorrow. She felt remorse for those girls and their father and wanted to kill the men responsible for their suffering. Even if it wasn't Randall, he could pay for their transgressions. His tribulation wouldn't make up for theirs, but at least an evil would be gone from the sick, twisted world.

"I didn't peg you for a desperate son-of-a-bitch, ol' man."

"Your opinion makes a difference, Daryl." Grace nodded without thinking, silently agreeing with him.

"Ain't nobody lookin' to me for nothin'," He decided.

"Carol is, Grace does," Dale said, causing Grace to frown in confusion. What the hell did he mean by that? "I am, right now. You obviously have Rick's ear."

"Rick just looks to Shane. Let him."

"You cared about what happened to Sophia while she was lost. You cared what it meant to the group."

Could Dale see a side of Daryl that Grace, nor anyone else, could not? There had to be reasoning behind why Dale had called his softer side into the mix. But this was an entirely different situation. Little girl goes missing versus dangerous man on death row – there was an obvious difference. Daryl didn't care if Randall died because he thought the prisoner was worth less than the dirt under his boots. Grace knew that because she felt the same way.

Dale continued, "The two of you, torturing people? I wouldn't expect that from either of you. I especially didn't think extortion was something you'd involve yourself in, Grace; you're a decent woman. Daryl, you're a decent man. Rick is a decent man. Now Shane... is different."

"Why's that?" The redneck challenged, "Because he killed Otis?"

Well, that was news to Grace, but she kept quiet being that she arrived after that incident.

Dale's face went even more serious and he took a step towards the hunters, "Who told you that?"

"He told some story; Otis covered him, saved his ass. Then he shows up with the dead guy's gun. Rick ain't stupid. He didn't figure that out because he didn't wanna. The group's broken; we're better off looking out for ourselves." With that, Daryl stalked off to their tent. As he got inside, the heaven's parted and soaked them with rain. Grace jogged to the tent but was soaked to the core by the time she got there.

She cursed and kicked off her muddy boots, shivering and not even thinking about anything as she took off her hoodie and her shirt. Her hands found the clips holding her bra together before she remembered that she wasn't alone. Turning her head slightly, she noticed Daryl had turned onto his side to face the wall of the tent. Shivering and silently thankful, she changed out of her soaked clothes and into a dry jumper and any pair of pants she could find. Her wet clothes were thrown in the corner as she sunk into the comfort of the sleeping bag. But her head was spinning with thoughts about that day.

She turned to face his back, "Do you think Randall's innocent? That he didn't contribute to raping those girls?"

Daryl turned into his back and tucked his arms behind his head. Grace watched his chest rise and fall again as he took a deep, thoughtful breath.

"Even if he didn't physically rape those girls, he's guilty of watchin' and not tryin' to stop 'em. The way I see it, that's pretty much the same thing. Let the fucker die."

Grace mused on that thought for a second. That's how she felt about it too. "We shouldn't have kept him here for this long. He's dangerous, and from what I saw today charismatic. If someone with no sense like Carol goes in there or one of the kids, he'd probably convince them to feel sorry for him and let him go. Then who knows what would happen to them."

Daryl snorted, "Who cares?" Grace's eyes fell to the floor of the tent. Daryl looked at her and felt a pang of guilt. "If they go in there after Rick told 'em not to, then they only have 'emselves to blame."

Grace lifted her gaze and met his cold blue eyes, but he quickly looked away. They weren't too far away from each other, as it was a small tent, and she could feel the heat radiating from his body. She shivered as one side of her was cold when the other was warm. She closed her eyes and faced away from him, however discreetly shuffling towards him. As she almost got close enough to touch him, she stopped and managed to quickly fall asleep.

But she woke up later that night from a loud clash of thunder with strong arms around her and almost started flailing about like a fish out of water in her tired state. Heart beating quickly, senses snapping to attention, deep breaths being drawn in. The strong arms were comforting, however, and just as she had earlier that night, she relaxed, drifting off to sleep in the warmth of the arms, listening to the rain as it continued to fall from the heavens above.

The thunder had woken Daryl up too, although it didn't scare him like he felt it scare Grace. Wait, oh shit. His arms were around her and he realised all too late. He couldn't take them back now that she was awake. How'd they even get there? Shit. Nothing he could do about it now. Besides, he'd seen her shivering and moving closer to him because he was warm. Her fault for not rugging up. He must have subconsciously felt sorry for her freezing ass. Shit, don't think about her ass, idiot. Now he really wanted to take his arms back, but before he could, she clamped a cold, iron grip around his wrist. Trapped. Dammit. He sighed and started to relax, no getting out now so may as well go with it. Her hair tickled the stubble on his chin – which thoroughly irritated him – but he was right. Grace's hair was as soft as he thought it would be.


	11. Chapter 11

**I do not own anything to do with AMC's The Walking Dead. I do own my made up characters. Enjoy.**

**FanFicGirl10: Yeah, in your face, Carol, hahaha! Don't know what I'm doing with Randall yet. We'll have to wait and see :)**

**Please review. I really want to know if I'm doing a good job or not. **

_Jury_

"What happened?" Dale asked Hershel. He, Jimmy, Grace and Patricia were down by the dam with wire, hammers and metal staples in quite a large wheelbarrow. It was too early to be up, but this family had to do stuff like this every day. Dale knew Grace wasn't a farmer and thought briefly about how exhausted she would be later.

"Dozen steer busted through the fence, spooked from the storm last night," Hershel answer, unwrapping some wire carefully, "Been wrangling the runaways all morning. Grace was kind enough to offer some help."

Dale nodded, looking away from it all. When Hershel questioned his lack of attention, Dale admitted his true intentions for coming to see the owner of the farm, "the boy."

"The prisoner," Hershel almost corrected him, which annoyed Dale a little.

"Randall," he'd settle by calling the boy by his name so people didn't put a label on him.

"I don't want to know," Dale looked at Hershel with a look of horror. How can he not care? "I'm told that they're deciding his fate. I'm leaving it with Rick."

"But this is _your home_," Dale was going to try to convince Hershel to talk Rick out of killing Randall. He was just a boy proven guilty by association.

"I want him away from my girls; I don't care how."

"It's an execution."

"I don't want to know," Hershel reiterated, attempting to push his point.

"But you can't stand by the sidelines," Dale started using dramatic hand gestures, "You're a man with conviction."

"To tell you the truth: I _was, _or at least I thought I was. But I've made too many mistakes."

"Would you at least talk with Randall before making up your mind?"

Hershel shook his head, looking Dale straight in the eye, "No. I leave it with Rick." At that point Hershel turned and walked back to Patricia, Jimmy and Grace, who gave Dale a small wave and smile. The older man didn't return either, rather just walking away in disgust. Grace frowned and sighed. Probably more of that Randall shit. No matter how much he tried to convince anyone, Randall was still going to die. There was really no way around it. If Dale convinced Rick to not kill him, Daryl and Grace would do it themselves. If Dale convinced Grace and Daryl, who could convince Rick, Shane would do it anyway because he's a stubborn jackass. There was no winning situation for Dale or Randall. The prisoner would come in last place and Dale would feel like he lost everything. As much as it pained her that Dale's efforts were fruitless, she had no heart to tell him. He'd just crack it at her and try to convince her again anyway like he did the night before. Although she'd said that she didn't care whether he died or not, she sort of did now. Not because of Randall, but because of how it would make Dale feel.

Dammit. Frowning, she took her mind off the whole thing by helping fix the broken fences of keep the cattle calm, deciding on going on a hunt when they were done. The food supplies were slowly diminishing – the deer Grace had shot had given everyone a full plate of venison for two nights to which the whole camp was grateful – so the two hunters had to lift their game.

...

Carl walked with a spring in his step next to Sophia, who had been reunited with the doll Eliza had given her. Carl's best friend was safe; he was so glad Grace and Daryl had found Sophia. He liked them so much for finding her. He wanted to be just like Daryl; brave and strong, and just as skilled as Grace, because she knew karate! Carl wished his mother would let Grace teach him karate. It would be great to use it against a Walker. He imagined flying up into the air, swinging his boot into a Walker's head. As he landed perfectly, the Walker's head rolled on the ground next to him, still moving its mouth and making noises. He slammed his boot into its skull and it stopped trying to bite at him.

Carl smiled at the thought.

"Carl, are you sure we should be doing this?" Sophia asked quietly, holding her doll to her chest and looking around with big, scared eyes, "I want to go back to the house to play."

"I don't want you getting lost or scared again, Sophia. I'm going to keep you safe, so come on."

They'd walked far away from the camp and Greene house, which made Sophia nervous. Carl understood why she would want to go back to the camp and back with her mom, but Carl wanted to be just like Daryl, and to be like Daryl, he had to get a gun. Carl knew that Merle always had a gun in the bag attached to his motorbike, and since Daryl got rid of his truck and kept the bike, it would still be in there! Unless Daryl already found it, but he wouldn't need to keep it on him. He had his crossbow and knives.

Sophia followed her best friend around a large fallen, decaying tree where Merle's bike came into view. As the two children approached it, small dead animals hung upside down on a rope came into view too. Sophia felt like crying. Even though she liked Daryl for saving her – and Grace too – she was still a little scared of him.

Carl thought the dead animals were cool. He wanted to ask Daryl or Grace to teach him how to hunt, but knew his mother wouldn't allow it. Carl's mom doesn't like Daryl or Grace. Carl didn't know why, but his mom always gave them weird looks.

"Check it out, Sophia!" Carl gripped the handlebars of the bike and made loud rumbling noises with his mouth, trying to imitate the loud engine he thought was really cool as he pretended to ride it. Sophia laughed.

Carl let go and took a few steps back, wishing briefly that Daryl would let him ride it, before lifting the flap of the bag. Inside was a bunch of orange containers with white lids in a zip-lock bag, and under those was a gun. The gun he'd been looking for. He picked it up gently. It was heavier than he'd expected. The knot in Sophia's stomach grew as Carl looked around in case someone was coming. He pulled the flap down again and smiled, an idea springing to his head.

"Come on, follow me," He ordered, tucking the gun into the back of his pants. He made sure to turn the safety on, like his dad had taught him.

"Where are we going?" Sophia asked, struggling to follow Carl as he had started walking faster.

Carl didn't answer.

They walked for a while before they made it into the forest. Carl wasn't walking with a spring in his step anymore. No, now he was strutting through the forest, feeling unstoppable with the gun he found. He had to prove to Sophia that he could and would keep her safe. Nothing was going to happen to her so long as Carl had that gun.

"Carl, I'm scared," Sophia said. But she was too quiet; Carl didn't hear her. Every noise made her nervous. Whether it be the birds flapping their wings and flying away, animals running along the forest floor, their own steps on the messy ground of snapping twigs and branches or the rustling leaves. Sophia was terrified. Her bruises had only just gone away but she could still feel them deep under her skin. She would feel them forever. They kept walking for what seemed like hours to the little girl, but it had only been a few minutes. She wished she could have been brave like Grace and to grow up to be just like her. Grace was smart, beautiful, could hunt and stuff, just like Daryl could, but she wasn't scary at all. Sophia really liked Grace and never really had the chance to tell her because she was around Daryl all the time – and he looked angry whenever she saw him.

Carl stopped suddenly in front of Sophia, which made her bump into his back. He held out his hand to make her stop. She heard the hoarse noise before she saw the Walker. She whimpered and her eyes started to sting as she clung to her doll. The Walker was standing there, all weird and sort of limp. It wasn't wearing a shirt, which was even creepier. Was this Walker like the men who took her? It had cuts on its chest; they looked deep. Sophia briefly wondered if this man had been scratched.

The Walker looked up and the noises it made got louder. Its eyes locked with Carl's, but he couldn't avoid looking at the skin that was pretty much falling off around its teeth and chin. He mainly looked away because its eyes were scary. Sophia got frightened, losing her balance and falling backwards. She tried to move away from it but her feet didn't seem to move properly. Carl almost tripped over her, but helped her up instead after remembering the gun in his possession. He looked back at the Walker and noticed it hadn't moved. Its feet were stuck in the mud. No matter how much it tried, it couldn't get its feet out. The Walker was stuck. Sophia noticed it too and got back up, moving close behind Carl.

This was the perfect moment for Carl to show Sophia how brave he could be.

Carl took a few steps towards the Walker, being careful not to slip down into the water and mud. He crouched between two logs and just watched as the Walker tried to get free and reach for him. He picked up a rock and threw it at the Walker. It seemed to make the Walker want to get him even more, but it was funny because it couldn't move. It snapped and tried to throw itself at Carl but didn't even come close. Time to have a little more fun with this.

The Walker hissed and lunged at Carl as he ran beside it, but he ducked out of the way. Sophia followed close behind him, squealing as it lunged for them. Her forearm scraped against a tree branch that stuck out of the log and cut her arm. The smallest bubble of blood started to rise from the skin under her scratch and the Walker seemed to smell it. It lunged forwards again and they took a step back. It was then that Sophia noticed one, two, three, four bite marks. One on its arm, near the shoulder, and the rest on its back.

It reached for Sophia, biting and making that scary noise. Carl grabbed the gun and held it firmly in front of him. Point blank is an easy shot, especially when the target wasn't moving. The Walker turned around and tried to grab Carl and Sophia from around the other side of its own body. Stupid sack of meat.

"Shoot it, Carl!" Sophia cried.

Carl held the gun tighter and moved a little closer. He was almost within arm's reach, he found that out as it barely missed the gun aimed at its head. Sophia moved to the side and blocked her ears, waiting for the shot. She could feel more blood rising from the cut in her arm. Before Carl could pull the trigger, the Walker threw itself at Sophia and managed to get out of the mud. A weird squelching noise was the last thing they heard before the two kids squealed as the Walker fell on Sophia. It clawed at her ankles and she kept squealing, flailing around, trying to get away from it. Carl had managed to kick its arms off Sophia and grabbed her, dragging her away as she flailed around and screamed. Her arm and ankle hurt so much after the Walker fell on her – she hated how it felt.

Carl picked her up from the ground, grabbed her hand and they ran away as fast as they could back towards the camp. Sophia's arm and ankle hurt with every step. Her head was filled with pain and her eyes were blurry as she sobbed loudly, running blindly as Carl ripped her forward when she wasn't running fast enough. She already felt faint from crying and running so much.

A figure came out of nowhere.

"Fucking _Christ,_ what the _fuck_ are you two doingout here?" Someone screamed at them out of nowhere, which made them jump and Sophia cry even more. Grace stared at the two of them, scared out of their minds, and noticed blood on Sophia's bloodied arm and ankle. One thin line went from her elbow to her wrist, where a little bit of blood had smudged in with some dirt. But her ankle. Four thick, deep cuts went from half way down her shin to her ankle. Blood was trickling delicately down the cuts, soaking her white sock and turning it a sickening crimson.

Grace let out a whimper and took a step forward towards Sophia, slinging her crossbow over her shoulder. In one quick sweep she picked up the little girl – causing her to squeal right in Grace's ear – and held her like she would a baby as Grace and Carl sprinted back to the camp. Carl and Grace blinked through tears and ignored everything as the made a beeline straight for the camp. Grace didn't think about Carl at all, whether he lagged behind or was managing to keep up. She'd heard him gasping for breath and his boots slamming heavily into the forest floor, but she'd never heard him stop. So she figured he was okay.

The evening sun stung at her eyes; she squinted at it and tried to make it stop but it wouldn't. So she ran faster, increasing her stride, making sure she'd get back to the camp in time. In time? For what? For everyone to see all of their hard work looking for this little girl go to waste? For their hearts to break at the loss of another survivor? For their souls to shatter when the lie which they called a miracle was exposed before their eyes?

Grace cursed, loudly, as Sophia whimpered in her arms. They broke through the clearing and she saw everyone walking towards the house. Her arms, feet, lungs, head, heart; they all hurt, screamed with pain with every step she took, but she ignored it. Grace had to ignore it for Sophia.

Grace saw Carol walking to the house with Lori and screamed at her. Carol frowned and turned around, her eyes growing wide with panic and fear as she ran towards Grace. She could already see the tears in her eyes. Lori had looked too and sprinted for her son.

Others had turned to look and made their way over, Rick too sprinted to his son while others just jogged. Daryl didn't quite sprint but his pace was faster than a jog. No one missed the scratches on her ankle.

Grace slowed down in front of Carol and readjusted her grip on Sophia, who was reaching out to her mother and crying. Carol ripped her daughter from Grace's arms and fell to the ground with her in the same way that she did when the hunters had found her. But now her tears weren't for relief. Carol had seen the scratches immediately as they were still bleeding.

Lori and Rick checked their son for bites or scratches and held him as he cried.

Grace was so dizzy, she almost fell to the ground. Daryl caught her before her knees gave way. She swallowed heavily and dug her nails into Daryl's arm, desperate to keep herself upright.

"Easy, girl; I've got you." Daryl cooed softly in her ear, lifting her so she stood straight. Her body shook violently and she sobbed, her eyes red and face wet from tears, sweat, spit and snot. She was an absolute mess. Carol was worse, but not by far.

Not many people were upset. They looked disappointed, but not upset. The only ones crying were the two kids, their mothers and Grace. The Greene family had done the right thing and stayed inside, away from the commotion. Daryl felt Grace falling against so he threw her up into his arms and held her there. She sobbed into his chest.

The hunter sighed and tightened his grip. It was going to be a long night – the Randal situation needed to be sorted out.

"Come on, girl. You gotta rest now."

Daryl had to pretty much pick her up as Grace refused to move. She didn't resist him when she felt herself floating and moving, only continued to sob.

All of their work gone, all of that time wasted, all of the happiness when she was found would disappear. She'd found that little girl, and for what? For her to be taken away again. Pointless. It was all pointless. Why did she even want to look for her? If Grace had known this would happen she would have left the girl to rot long ago.

Daryl opened the flap of their tent and placed Grace down on the cot, placing her crossbow down next to her and getting comfortable so he could lie next to her. He didn't understand why she was getting so upset about it. Sophia wasn't her kid, or her responsibility, so she shouldn't be making this her problem. He didn't know why it was making him feel like shit either. At least he wasn't crying.

Daryl sighed and gently stroked her hair as she stopped sobbing and sniffled a little. Soon she was asleep, so Daryl pulled her sleeping bag over her and walked back to the scene.

T-Dog had pulled Carol up – she was screaming and crying for her daughter and reaching for her – while Shane had Sophia in his arms. She looked pale and limp, eyes barely able to keep open. She was already dying. Rick had his hand on the gun at his waist, but his head hung to the ground. He wasn't happy to do this, which was fair enough. Rick shouldn't have to take everything on his shoulders.

Daryl put a hand on Rick's shoulder and nodded once. Rick gave him a stern look and nodded after a few seconds. The two looked to Shane, who put Sophia on the ground. The two cops proceeded to herd the group like cattle away from the little girl. Carol screamed in protest as Daryl took his crossbow from around his shoulder.

Sophia managed to turn her head and look into his cold blue eyes before they glazed over. His body ached as he pulled the trigger. Carol screamed. Carl and Lori sobbed.

The little girl that had gone missing had been rescued, only to be taken from them again.

The hunter slung the crossbow over his shoulder and started for the Greene residence. They had other shit to sort out too, may as well do it now.


	12. Chapter 12

**I do not own anything to do with AMC's The Walking Dead. I do own my made up characters. Enjoy.**

**the-shrewd-ravenclaw: I don't know whether or not this is a good review; "perfect" seems to be used in negative connotations :( But I will say that I am glad that you are keen for this chapter and feel emotional towards my writing. Here it is :) Hope your feelings are okay now! I really appreciate the review.**

**FanFicGirl10: I know, I know, I'm sorry. It was actually kind of a spur of the moment thing. As I was watching the episode **_**Judge, Jury, Executioner**_** and that part where Carl goes through Daryl's things came on, I had to include it, and the part where Grace decides that what Dale is doing is completely useless. I saw the scene with Carl, and then was like "Hey, this is my story and I kept Sophia alive, I totally forgot," to which I decided to kill her off because it will also reinforce and fall into how Carl becomes such a little shit in season 3. Also, I don't really think it would be right for Daryl and Grace to play parent. I contemplated that, but then decided that losing Sophia and truly crushing Carol and turning her into the hardass bitch she is in season 3 was the right way to go. **

**southern hickup: I know, I'm sorry. But I felt like it was something I had to do for Carl, Carol, Daryl and Grace's character development. I'm glad you enjoyed it; I appreciate the review.**

**Please review. I really want to know if I'm doing a good job or not. **

_Executioner_

Carol, Carl and Lori were upstairs in Hershel's room. Lori comforted both Carol and Carl, who was muttering about how it was all his fault. Lori wondered how it could even be his fault. Yes, his son had wandered off with Sophia, but she just guessed they were going to play somewhere still within their sight. The two weren't even gone for long. And the way Grace came running out of the forest screaming her head off was absolutely crazy. Why wasn't she watching then if they were all in the same spot? Grace was a bad egg in Lori's books. She was glad that her son came out unharmed and, although sad for Carol and Sophia, grateful to God that it was Sophia and not her baby boy. Lori's husband had almost been taken away from her and then her son almost got taken away _twice_. She didn't know how much more she could take. In any case, one question came to mind: why the hell didn't Grace stop this from happening?

The group was on edge about the whole Randall situation. Daryl wanted him dead and gone but knew others in the group would have a problem with that solution. The way Grace was just moments before made him wonder about how she'd be when she woke up. Sad as she was then, he imagined her being angry as all hell when she woke up, especially if she spoke to Lori. Daryl saw the sheriff's wife shooting her accusing looks before the hunter picked her up and put her to bed. He knew he despised her for a reason. She was so quick to put the blame on someone else. Olive Oil should have been watching her own damn kid, not putting it on someone else as soon as something goes wrong. Carl wasn't Grace's responsibility; not now, then or ever, and Grace needed to be told that.

Rick walked in the front door and leant against the ugly, regal looking sofa. Andrea and Shane were standing together, obviously. The two must be fucking; Andrea has been with him non-stop. T-Dog was just standing next to Shane with his shoulders slumped. The Greene family sat on the couches nearest to each other. Glenn sat on the stool in front of the unused piano while Dale leant against it.

No one looked like they wanted to be there at all. Their faces were riddled with sorrow and regret, Shane looked impatient and Daryl was angry. He had to tell Grace that it wasn't her fault that those two little idiots went into the forest alone and got attacked by Walkers. It wasn't her fault. Because of them he'd have to hunt for the next two days to keep their food supplies up. Stupid snot nosed punks, thinking that they own the world.

"So how do we do this? We just take a vote?" Glenn asked gently, looking up at Rick from the stool.

"Does it have to be unanimous?" Andrea asked.

"Let's just see where everybody stands. Then we can talk through the options."

"Yeah, well, way I see it there's only one way to go forward," Shane said. There was no question to what he meant.

"Killing him," Dale was already pissed off, "Right? I mean, why even take a vote? It's clear which way the wind's blowing."

"If people believe we should spare him, I want to know."

"Well I can tell you it's a small group; maybe just me and Glenn."

Glenn looked up at Dale awkwardly and Dale's expression dropped, "Look, Dale, I... I think you're pretty much right about everything all the time but this–"

"They've got you scared!" Dale almost shouted.

"He's not one of us and we've..." Glenn almost trailed off, "we've lost too many people already."

Dale was unpleasantly surprised. He'd just about had enough of how everyone was treating this boy. Randall could be spared! But everyone just wanted him killed. It was completely inhumane. He looked to Hershel and recalled their conversation that morning. "How about you? Do you agree to this?"

Maggie's jaw clenched but she looked stressed. "Can't we just continue to keep him prisoner?" She asked.

"That's just another mouth to feed," Daryl said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"It may be a bad winter."

"He could be an asset. Give him a chance to prove himself."

"Put him to work?"

"We're not letting him walk around."

"Put an escort on him," Maggie suggested.

"Who wants to volunteer for _that_ duty?" Shane asked, clearly unamused.

"I will," Dale strongly declared, his dislike for Shane seeping into his tone.

"I don't think any of us should be walking around with this guy."

"Well we can't exactly put chains around his ankles and sentence him to hard labour."

"Look," All eyes on Shane, "Say we let him join us, right? Maybe he's helpful, maybe he's nice. Maybe we let our guard down and he runs off and brings his thirty men."

"So the answer is to kill him to prevent a crime that he may _never even attempt?_ If we do this, we're saying there's no hope. Rule of law is dead; there is no civilisation."

Nobody missed Shane's annoyed and impatient _oh my God_. Daryl frowned and clenched his bruised fist. If only he could hit Shane square in the nose.

"Could you drive him further out and leave him like you planned?"

"You barely came back that last time," Glenn pointed out, "there could be Walkers, a car could break down or you could get lost."

"Or ambushed," Daryl interjected.

"We should _not_ put our own people at risk."

"If you go through with it," that older blonde lady spoke up for the first time, "How would you do it? Will he suffer?"

"We were gonna hang him," Shane looked to Rick, "snap his neck."

"Yeaaahhhhh, I thought about that. Shooting may be more humane."

"What about the body?" T-Dog asked, "What do we do with that?"

"Whoa whoa whoa, hold on just a minute!" Dale waved his hands about so everyone would stop talking. "You're talking about this like it's already been decided."

"We been talkin' all day," Daryl said though a clenched jaw, looking up at the old man from under his lashes, "We're goin' 'round in circles. You just want to go 'round in circles again?" Daryl was getting real sick of hearing this old man talk.

"This is a young man's life! And it is worth more than a five minute conversation." The room was silent. "Is this what it's come to? We kill someone because we can't decide what else to do with him? Rick, you saved him! And what for? Now look at us: he's been tortured, he's going to be executed. How are we any better than those people we're so afraid of?"

Guilt. Guilty faces everywhere. But it still felt like the right thing to do. Daryl knew it was what they had to do for the safety and survival of the camp. The room was quiet for a long time and everyone stared at the ground.

"We all know what needs to be done," Shane declared; his voice oddly soft but laced with irritation towards the old man.

"No, Dale's right; we can't leave any stone unturned. We have to take responsibility."

"So what are we going to do then? We haven't come up with a single viable option yet. I wish we could and–"

"So let's _work on it!_" Dale felt like screaming and almost did.

"Stop it," A small voice broke through the yelling. Daryl's stomach dropped when an exhausted looking Grace stepped in through the door with a tired look on her face, "I'm so sick of everyone fighting about this. Just stop it. None of us asked for this. You can't ask these people to decide something like this, with their stupid 'humanity' and 'morals'. All of that shit is dead and gone, just like just about every human being in this world. The kid's a threat, Dale," Grace declared, staring daggers at the old man. Grace wanted to have a say in the matter. She wasn't just going to be left in the . God was she sick of him standing up for that monster, "Are you really willing to risk your life and the lives of others just for one stupid kid? Because if you are, you're a _fucking idiot_ with no morals yourself. You're a part of this group, which means you have to protect it. Standing up for this kid is doing the opposite of that. You may as well put a gun to my head and pull the trigger yourself."

Holy shit. The room was silent. Daryl looked at Grace in a whole new way. This dark side of her never came out when he was with her, or anyone else for that matter. It's all Randall's fault. She beat the shit out of him and now she was acting all weird. Fuck. She went to speak again but Rick cut her off.

"Alright, that's enough! Anybody else want the floor before we make a final decision has the chance."

A long silence blanketed the house. The Greene's sat. Most people stared at their feet. Grace stared exhausted daggers at Dale. Rick and Daryl looked around for anyone to say anything but it was pointless. It was over. But Dale kept trying when no one else would.

"You once said that we don't kill the living."

"That was _before_ the living tried to kill us."

"But don't you see that if we do this, the people we were, the world that we knew is dead!"

"It died when people started coming back to life, Dale." Grace said firmly. When would he fucking stop? It was over.

"Well this new world is ugly; it's harsh, it's survival of the fittest. And that's a world I don't want to live in. I don't believe that any of you do; I can't believe it. Please," Dale sounded like he was about to cry. Grace's jaw clenched as she snapped back into reality, her stomach dropped. Why did she have to say all of that? This man had been nothing but kind to her and she just tried to crush him into the dirt. Shit fucking _fuck_. She felt like a monster. "Let's just do what's right. Is nobody else going to stand with me?"

"He's right; we should try to find another way," Andrea suggested.

"Anybody else?"

Nothing.

Dale scoffed, tears in his old, tired eyes. Grace couldn't look away from them. "Are you all going to watch, too? Oh no, you'll all go hide your heads in your tents and try to forget the fact that we're slaughtering a human being. I won't be a party to it."

Dale trudged past Daryl and stopped next to him, placing an old hand on his shoulder, "You're right," He turned back to Grace, "This group is broken."

Grace and Daryl shared a look.

...

Shane, Rick, Daryl and Grace walked to the barn. Randall wasn't blindfolded and gagged, but his hands were tied up behind his back which provided Grace with comfort. Daryl pushed him along the dirt path towards the barn. Grace didn't feel as satisfied as she normally was when he whimpered and was scared. Now she didn't know what she felt. Randall was a threat; a dog that had to be put down, it was what they had to do. No doubts about it. There was no way she was going to sit in her tent and try to hide from it all.

Daryl kept shooting looks at Grace, concerned for her. Why the hell did she even want to do this? Sophia had been killed today and she was clearly at war with herself about how she felt towards Dale. One minute she's happy with him and helping him clean the RV, then she's barking at him to shoot her in the head and then she's all sad and quiet when he almost let the waterworks break standing up for this punk.

"Hold on, wait nononono hold on," Randall tried to get out of going into the barn but no one had a bar of it. They were sick of the shit this kid had caused – albeit inadvertently – with the group and it was time for him to go. Dale would never forgive Grace for what she said or this, but she could live with that.

Rick opened the door to the barn and was cautious before he went inside, even though everyone knew that no one could have been inside. The day they opened the barn and killed Hershel's friends and family still haunted Rick and plagued him with guilt. Daryl pushed Randall forward as Rick walked inside. Grace and Shane followed suit.

"Put him there," Rick instructed, placing the lantern on a hay bale. Daryl obeyed.

"Wait, no, wait, wait, please wait," Randal begged, but to no avail. No one was listening to him. He was done for.

Shane went behind Randall and tied a blindfold around his eyes. "It'll all be over soon," he said quietly, as if trying to reassure Randall that he wasn't going to be executed. It was all pointless.

"Why? What's going to be over soon?"

"Relax," Shane said, tying it tightly.

"Hey, wait no, wait," Randall almost started crying. Shane just _shhh_'d him as Rick grabbed the gun from his waist. Randall suddenly realised what was happening and started begging and protesting even more. Shane just kept trying to shush him but it wouldn't work.

Daryl moved next to Grace, whose expression was angry. Her thin eyebrows furrowed into a small frown and her jaw was set, her red lips a flat line. On second thoughts, she didn't look angry, she looked perplexed by an unknown question she couldn't answer. Grace shouldn't even be there; not after what had happened already that day. Her hands hung at her sides and she hunched over slightly, completely exhausted.

Grace's eyes opened a little, snapping with attention, when Rick raised the gun to Randall's head. Daryl grabbed her hand, hoping it would reassure her that everything would be okay. She looked up at him from under her eyelashes and gave him a small smile before lacing her fingers between his.

"Would you like to stand or kneel?"

Randall started begging again and didn't look like he was going to make a decision. Daryl took his hand back and went to the prisoner. Daryl put his hands on Randall's shoulders and kicked at the back of his knees, causing them to jerk forwards and for him to fall. Daryl grabbed a handful of Randall's hair and pulled his head back, hearing him cry out in pain before letting it go and resuming his position beside Grace. He folded his arms over his chest. Randall started crying. It wasn't amusing to either hunter anymore.

Rick and Shane shared a look for a long time before Shane nodded.

"Do you have any final words?"

Randall cried and begged some more. What a waste of oxygen.

"Do it, dad," Everyone turned to see Carl, sniffling with red eyes, standing at the door to the barn, "Do it. He's a bad man. His people hurt Sophia."

Sophia. Oh God. Grace's head started spinning, filled with the children's screaming and crying and yelling. She swallowed hard and blinked back stinging tears. Daryl grabbed her hand again and pulled her towards him as Shane made his way over to Carl. "Are you kidding me? What did I say to you? _What _did I say to you?" Shane grabbed Carl's arm and dragged him outside.

Rick lowered his gun.

Grace let out a short breath and Daryl sighed.

"Take him away. Just take him away."

Daryl grabbed the sleeves of Randall's loose shirt and pulled him to his feet. "Get up." Grace followed Daryl out. Shane slammed his fist into the open barn door and stalked off, fuming.

So after all that, they didn't kill him, because a stupid little kid said shit and wanted to watch. That little kid is fucked up. Grace frowned and sighed, silently seething at the pointless conversation – or rather _argument – _everyone engaged in that evening. Grace's words had proved to be useless and hurtful now. They'd decided on Randall's fate, shitting on Dale's beliefs and morals, and for what? For a dumb little kid to fuck it all up. Dale won. He'd be happy knowing that Randall wasn't going to die. For now, anyway. Grace wanted him to die and would do it herself if she had to. Hopefully it would never come to that.

They made it to the smaller barn and Grace opened the door for Daryl to shove Randall through. He was in there long enough to handcuff him to the wall. Daryl leant forward and untied the blindfold. He looked Randall in the eye, the usual scowl set on his face. "You're one lucky son of a bitch." Randall looked up at Grace with wide eyes and started thanking the hunters. "Shut up."

Daryl discarded the blindfold at the door and closed it behind him. Grace sighed and ran her hand through her hair. "What happens now?"

Daryl started towards the camp, walking beside Grace. "I don't know. Rick will decide on somethin' tomorrow. We just gotta get through the rest of today." He sighed. "It's not your fault, y'know."

"What?"

"It's not your fault that Sophia got scratched."

"Oh... Yeah, but–"

"No buts, Dwyer. It ain't your fault. Period. If those kids hadn't been out by themselves in the forest without their mama's eyes on them, then they wouldn't have gotten themselves into that mess. It had nothin' to do with you. You just happened to find them when the damage was already done; ain't nothin' you could have done about it, so quit beatin' yourself up."

Grace was quiet for the rest of the trip, which was fine with Daryl. She was letting his words sink in.

They had just made it back to the fire when they head the screaming. Dale's screaming. Everyone ran in the direction of the noise, but no one could keep up with Grace. She ran as quickly as she could, long strides, her boots slamming into the damp earth. She whipped her knife from her hip and held it tight, knuckles white and aching.

No, no, no. Please God, no.

Grace pushed the metal gate out of the way and she cursed because it made her slow down. The cries and yelling got louder. Grace thought she heard someone yelling his name, but she couldn't quite tell from the whistling in her ears. There were little balls of light moving quickly from the house and yelling that got louder. Hissing and deep throaty croaks were the only things that she could hear when she got close to Dale. Then his shrill, terrified scream.

Grace was too late.

Daryl shot out in front of her and tackled the Walker off Dale, almost causing her to trip. Without missing a beat, as Grace dove for the Walker, they simultaneously dug their hunting knives into its head.

Daryl got up straight away and checked Dale. His skin was split in half and his organs were revealed. Daryl couldn't imagine the pain the old man was in.

"Here! Help us! Over here! Help us!" Daryl cried out, waving his arms in the air, screaming as loud as he could. He knelt down at Dale's side but didn't know what to do. He could hear Grace crying and stabbing the Walker over and over again, yelling in frustration.

The squelching of its skull collapsing more and more with every stab didn't satisfy her. It wouldn't until Dale was okay. Over and over, stabbing it in the head, until her knife was taken from her and strong arms wrapped around her small frame. She screamed in protest and kicked and flailed.

Everyone had made it to Dale at that point. Rick knelt before his older friend and put his gun away, taking Dale's head between his hands, whispering reassuring words. Shane ran his hands over his head and cursed. Andrea started crying. Glenn's heart dropped. T-Dog did his best to hold Grace and keep her from hitting him or falling out of his grip, trying to sooth her. Dale just writhed on the ground in pain.

Andrea knelt down to her old friend and Rick demanded that someone get Hershel. It's too late. Daryl and Grace knew it was far too late to save their old friend. There would be two funerals tomorrow and no one would be okay.

Grace wriggled out of T-Dog's grip and fell to Dale's side, next to Daryl, grabbing Dale's hand in both of hers. The African-American man didn't try to stop her. Grace cried, begged him to be okay. He looked up at her with wide eyes, gasping for air that he couldn't breathe.

Hershel arrived. Pointless. Their friend was gone. There was nothing they could do.

Rick suggested moving him.

No, no they can't do that. He wouldn't even make the trip. Pointless. He was dead and gone. The Walker opened him up, ripped him open like a kid opening their birthday present with malicious intent to destroy whatever was inside. He hated seeing everyone like this. Especially Grace, who took this the hardest.

Crying. Grace just kept crying. Why did that fucker in the barn have to live while Dale had to die after attempting to save his ass? This was not fair. It shouldn't have happened. It shouldn't have happened.

Daryl had to end it. End his suffering. That's what he would want. That's what they all wanted. No one wanted to see their friend in pain.

Carl recognised the Walker's body, the bite marks and scratches. The face was unrecognisable. But he knew it well enough to start crying and run into his mother's arms. This was his fault. Sophia, Dale. All his fault – he knew it.

Rick knelt down again, revolver in hand. Daryl held out his hand and shook his head, placing his palm up for the gun. Rick handed it to him.

Daryl held the gun at Dale's head. Dale looked into his cold eyes and pulled his head up to push his forehead against the barrel.

"Sorry, brother."


	13. Chapter 13

**I do not own anything to do with AMC's The Walking Dead. I do own my made up characters. Enjoy.**

**Theta-McBride: Thank you! :) Here's chapter 13 for you :3**

**FanFicGirl10: I know, I love Dale too. But, again, I had to kill off these characters for Grace's character development. Here's the next chapter for you: just some sweet stuff with Daryl and Grace, hopefully not corny :)**

**MAR76: I'm trying to make people dislike Lori as much as I do in this, so I'm guessing I'm doing a wonderful job at it :) Hope you enjoy this chapter.**

**Sorry it's taken me a while! I've been working a lot :) Hope you enjoy this chapter even though it's shorter than the others.**

**Please review. I really want to know if I'm doing a good job or not. **

_Rain; Could You Numb the Pain_

"Come on, Grace," a voice cooed in Grace's ear, and strong, dark arms lifted her from Dale's side, "You gotta get up."

Grace hadn't realised that, in driving her knife into the Walker's skull over and over, dark blood had spurted onto her clothes and skin. She could feel it drying on her skin and wanted to throw up. A whimper escaped her lips as Dale's hand fell limp from hers but she didn't kick and scream or flail this time.

T-Dog shushed her and helped her over to Daryl, who gave a nod to the African-American. T-Dog knew that the only one Grace would find comfort in at that time was Daryl, the man who brought her into their group. There wasn't much a friend could do at times like this but just give her some space until she was ready to come back into the group; at that moment she was in a faraway place and the only thing anyone could do was pray that she comes back to them in one piece. He went to her tent to get some clean clothes.

Grace closed her eyes and headed back to the house with Daryl, his hand gentle on her back, guiding her. The whole walk, Daryl told Grace that it wasn't her fault, it wasn't anyone's fault, don't blame yourself, there was nothing she could have done, nothing anyone could have done. But there was. In her heart, she was convinced that she should have done something different.

If she'd stood up for Dale and supported him, he wouldn't have walked off like he did. Dale wouldn't have been attacked. They could have been sitting on the top of the RV together talking about nothing important and just enjoying each other's company. They could be sitting at breakfast tomorrow morning, enjoying whatever anyone cooked because they knew they had to cherish each meal as if it were their last.

The tears didn't stop, though they were silent, save the occasional choked sob. Daryl didn't mind that she was crying, he just wanted her to stop beating herself up about it. What he was telling her was true: none of it was her fault and there was nothing anyone could have done about it. Although it was sad and he felt himself in pain about the whole ordeal, Daryl had to focus on what he had to do. He couldn't afford to get distracted when his friend needed him.

Daryl took his hand off her back and opened the door for her. She didn't ignore his action, but didn't acknowledge it like she normally would. Chivalry may as well be dead now too, seeing as everything else was, but Grace was silently amused.

Grace didn't skip any steps as they made their way up to the bathroom, her feet flat and dragging on the floor.

What if she went with him, tried to calm him down, instead of insisting that she see Randall die? Grace could have been there to talk to him, talk him out of feeling bad for Randall, and protected him when the Walker attacked him. Grace could have kept him safe. Grace could have kept him alive.

Daryl opened the door to the bathroom and ushered Grace inside. He went to close the door, let her do what she had to, but she just stood there, completely still. Daryl let out a long breath and cursed, walking in with her.

T-Dog walked up the stairs with a white tank top, the hoodie he saw her wearing by the tree when she and Daryl were talking, and her pants she always wore hunting. It was all comfortable to wear and warm, which is what everyone needed since winter was drawing closer. He didn't want to think about what was going to happen during winter. Would it slow the Walkers down? It would slow everyone else down, for sure.

T-Dog wondered briefly if they could withstand the cold when he reached the bathroom. He knocked on the wall next to the door and waited. Daryl appeared not long after and retrieved the clothes from him with a nod of gratitude, closing the door behind him before T-Dog could ask questions. The African-American man raised his hands in defence and shook his head, heading back outside to deal with everyone else out there. She must be really shaken up.

Grace stood in the exact same place, with the exact same expression on her face, as Daryl worked at getting the bloodied clothes off her. He didn't pull a face or flinch as grabbed the hem of her shirt and went to lift it. Grace lifted her thin arms and he continued. Her bra was clean. Daryl's eyes fell to her tattoos as her arms fell to her sides.

_Nothing lasts forever_, the fancy writing tattoo. It was relevant in this situation. Her pain wouldn't last forever. Grace's ribs looked even more visible since she showed him her tattoos. He silently promised to get her more food so she wouldn't wither away into nothing.

Daryl untied her boots and took them off quickly, the dead rose catching his eye momentarily, before going to Grace's pants next. He looked up to her – needing to know that she was okay with him doing this. She didn't flinch or protest or give him weird looks or anything. Grace knew he was helping her and was grateful. She needed all the help she could get.

He looked away – like a gentleman – as he unbuttoned her pants and carefully pulled them down to her feet. He came back up and lifted her out of them, carrying her shivering, thin body into the shower.

Daryl turned the water on and took his clothes off too, save his underwear. There was only one way he could get her clean, seeing as she wasn't doing anything for herself. He grabbed a hand towel off the rail under the sink and got in the shower next to Grace.

It surprised Daryl when she didn't even blink, or protest, when he got in with her. He guided her under the warm water and she closed her eyes. A lot of dark blood washed out of her hair and off her skin, but not all of it came off.

Careful and gentle, Daryl worked at getting Grace clean. He didn't really know what he was doing or how to do it – he'd never had to do this before – but somehow he managed. He used the shampoo and conditioner to wash the blood out of her hair, pulling her head forward to make sure the blood didn't get on her underwear. She pulled a face when her eyes fell to the soapy, dark water that swirled around at their feet. The small room was soon filled with the heavy scent of lavender. He hated lavender – it reminded him of the oil he used on his burnt skin. Nevertheless, he pressed on, ignoring the smell and sick feeling in his stomach that it caused and got her clean. Daryl used the small towel to clean her red face.

Grace thought it was sweet, what Daryl was doing for her. No one else would have done it like he had. They would have left her in the bathroom to clean herself up. She wouldn't be able to keep herself from crying at all the blood; she wouldn't get anything done. She couldn't stop crying now, even with Daryl cleaning her. But at least she could cry and still get clean.

Which is what she was doing now that she was clean: crying.

Daryl threw the handtowel on the floor of the shower and pulled her into his chest. He hated seeing her like this. It made him feel sick and his heart beat too quickly at the same time, which confused and angered him.

Grace rested her head on his shoulder – which made him rest his chin on her head – and just cried, letting his strong arms and the water keep her safe and warm for as long as possible.


	14. Chapter 14

**I do not own anything to do with AMC's The Walking Dead. I do own my made up characters. Enjoy.**

**Middlekertz: :) Thank you very much!**

**FanFicGirl10: Oh my God, I know right. I'm sure we'd all love a little Daryl time, but I'm trying not to rush it too much in this story. Here's your update!**

**MAR76: Thank you kindly :) I'm glad. Exactly! Lori's a stupid hoe.**

**I just want to take the time to apologise to all of you, my fabulous readers, for not updating for a while. I've been so busy lately, so hopefully I can make it up to all of you soon. Again, I'm very sorry, I hope you can all forgive me and I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

_Better Angels_

The dirty blue truck roared down the gravel road, leaving a trail of thick dust behind it. It was like something out of a movie. Shane had the wheel, looking guilty and somewhat strained, and Andrea was in the passengers' seat next to him. She looked unhealthily pale and too thin, her tired blue eyes looking out the musty window as her cheek bones poked from under her skin.

"_Dale could get under your skin." _

Grace was in the middle of T-Dog and Daryl, who were riding in the tray. They were both close enough to her that they could touch her. T-Dog had a reassuring hand on her leg and, although the only thing Daryl was holding was the two crossbows, he'd let Grace rest her head on his shoulder. That was good enough. She rested her hand on T's, giving him a small smile and his hand a gentle squeeze, letting him know that she would be okay.

Eventually.

"_He sure got under mine." _

Grace closed her eyes as a chill slithered down her spine. The hunter didn't know where they were all going, but she knew that wherever their destination, there would be Walkers. Shane guaranteed it. The small group weren't heading into a death-trap. The Walkers were. Grace needed to kill something. A lot of something's. A Walker would be a perfect something.

"_Because he wasn't afraid to tell you exactly what he thought; how he felt," everyone but Rick had their heads down. Grace was on the verge of tears again, but she couldn't cry. If she started crying there would be no way she'd be able to stop. "That kind of honesty is rare – and brave."_

First, before they went all out, the fences had to be repaired or reinforced. There was no way anyone could risk another attack like that. Lucky for Grace, she was on Walker-Watch, which was definitely the perfect job for her at that point. Armed with her two knives, she surveyed the perimeter and kept a close eye on everything from on top of the truck. Daryl was on the ground with his crossbow, doing the exact same thing. The two hunters knew they made a good team.

Shane tugged at the wire, making sure it was secure.

"_Whenever I'd make a decision, I'd look at Dale. He'd be looking back at me with that look he had. We've all seen it one time or another."_

Daryl lead the group through the forest with Grace at the rear, now fully equipped with her crossbow and knives at her waist and thigh. There was no way she was going anywhere far without them. No way in hell. Daryl lowered his crossbow when he saw tracks. He whistled to the group and the other hunter snapped to attention. She noticed the disturbed dirt and looked in the direction Daryl was pointing. Some nasty mother fucker had been shuffling that way. Grace took off in front of them with a spring in her step.

"_I couldn't always read him, but he could read us. He saw people for who they were." Grace remembered those few days before when Dale had questioned the two hunters about their actions earlier that morning with that stupid fuck Randall. Dale had expected more of the girl he had started to see as a daughter. He was disappointed in this girl and her friend for what they had done. She remembered when he had supported the idea of leaving the barn alone because Hershel saw the Walkers as people. Dale was a good man. It hurt to see him die in such a painful way. It hurt far too much. "He knew things about us: the truth – who we really are."_

The blue truck roared over the hill and four Walkers came into view. Grace didn't wait for the car to stop. She slung her crossbow over her shoulder before she could even hit the ground and sprinted towards the first Walker – a woman in a night gown – with her machete held tight in her strong hands. The rest weren't far behind her as she slammed her fist into the side of the ugly bitch's head. The Walker's skull almost caved in as she staggered to the side. The rest of the ugly fucks had turned at that point and made their way to the first bit of flesh that caught their smell and sight. There were three more Walkers down the hill farther eating the insides of a cow.

"_In the end he was talking about losing our humanity. He said this group is broken. __The best way to honour him is to unbreak it; to set aside our differences and pull together. __To stop feeling sorry for ourselves. To take control of our lives." _

Daryl shot a Walker right between the eyes. The loud thud it made when the sack of dead meat fell made Grace feel good. The female Walker Grace had punched in the head had managed to find its way over to her again. She got into position: spread her legs shoulder length apart and shifted her bodyweight, raised her arms to cover her face, and kept her muscles tight and ready. The Walker lunged for Grace but she ducked out of the way. It was quicker than she expected, swiping at her with a deadly, rotten-nailed claw. Grace slapped away that wrist and grabbed the other that was aimed at her face. Barely a sound came from the Walker when Grace ducked under the arm she held and snapped it. She did the same with the other. Black blood went everywhere.

The Walker staggered towards her with an angry snarl, snapping her jaws at Grace like a rabid animal. The hunter shook her head and slammed the knife up through the Walker's jaw into its skull.

T-Dog bashed the shit out of one of them with a crowbar. Andrea put the pitchfork to good use.

"_Our safety, our future. We're not broken. We're going to prove him wrong._"

Shane gave the rusted shovel an adoring look before he caved a Walker's skull in.

It seemed to be enough to get the other Walkers distracted from their meal.

"_From now on, we're gonna do it his way." _

The group marched down to the dead cow. Daryl already shot one of the fucks in the head, right between the eyes. Atta boy.

"_That is how we honour Dale."_

Grace jogged down the other Walkers as Andrea smashed one in the face with the wooden pole of the pitchfork and quickly finished the job.

Shane kicked one of them in the leg, causing it to fall to the ground. The group then continued to kick the shit out of it, regardless of the fact that it would get back up and pursue them if they simply walked away. Shane backed away from the Walker, watching. Daryl and Andrea backed away, letting Grace and T-Dog kick the shit out of it. When Shane had enough, the Walker's brain was all over the grass. T-Dog had to pull his friend away to make sure she didn't get in the way of Shane's swing.

The ride back was a lot easier on all of them. It was good stress relief. It helped with the pain of watching their friend die. It helped to kick the shit out of one of those fuckers, to kill a something. Grace could breathe easily the whole way back but resumed the same position she was in on the way there. T-Dog's hand on her leg under hers and her head on Daryl's shoulder – he didn't protest again.

Daryl saw her smile, her look of relief. It made him feel good.

...

"It'll be tight; fourteen people in one house," Rick said. Daryl and Grace managed to get into the habit of surveying every single area they were in multiple times together. Nothing was safe unless they said so. Listening to Rick, she wasn't sure if he sounded like he was trying to keep them out of the house. Was he crazy? Winter was close and they wouldn't be able to live in their tents.

"Don't worry about that – with the swamp hardening and the creek drying up–"

"– and about fifty head of cattle on the property, we may as well be ringing the damn dinner bell." Maggie finished for Hershel.

"She's right; we should have moved in you in a while ago."

"Damn straight," Grace muttered. Daryl smirked.

"Alright let's move the vehicles near each of the doors facing out towards the road. We'll build a lookout in the windmill and another in the barn. That should give us sight lines out both sides of the property."

Daryl slung his crossbow over his shoulder and Grace nodded to him, doing the same. The area is secure. Although it didn't have to be done, they both felt like it was the right thing to do. The group couldn't deal with another dead. Not yet, at least.

"T-Dog, you take the perimeter around the house to keep track of everyone coming and going."

"What about standing guard?"

"I'll be putting you, Grace and Daryl on double duty." The two hunters shared a look after they heard their names.

Grace headed to their tent to grab their things to move into the house. About fucking time Hershel moved them all in there. It wouldn't exactly be ideal for everyone to keep living in tents when winter came along. It was so close now. The days were sunny but they weren't as hot as they used to be. Everyone was wearing extra layers and the warmest thing Grace had was her hoodie and her gear. Grace was personally grateful for the Greene's finally letting them live there.

"I'll stock the basement with food and water, enough so that we can all survive down there a few days if need be," Hershel was carrying large boxes filled with fruit. Grace liked that idea.

"What about patrols?" Andrea asked Rick.

"Let's just get this area locked down first. After that Shane will assign shifts while me and Daryl take Randall off sight and cut him loose."

Grace went out of earshot as she walked away from the camp. She was pissed off. Randall was the whole reason Dale was dead. Dale was trying to stick up for the ugly son of a bitch when everything went wrong and he ended up dying for him. It was all Randall's fault. If he hadn't been a dumb fuck and impaled himself on a gate then none of this would have happened.

Grace glanced over her shoulder. The truck hummed to life compared to the roar of Daryl's bike. Grace had never heard anything like it, but she enjoyed the sound. Although it was the loudest and most attention grabbing thing on the whole property, she knew that Daryl wouldn't have given a fuck. Everyone moved slowly towards the house carrying bags, packs and boxes with them. Daryl's bike hummed as he rode it. Not exactly ideal for carrying multiple people, but that was probably his plan from the start.

Maggie caught up to Grace and walked beside her with one of the boxes of fruit her father was carrying. Grace's stomach rumbled loudly and she pulled a face.

"I saw you eyein' off the peaches when dad was carryin' 'em, thought you might like one," Maggie said with a beautiful smile.

Grace returned it and slung her back pack over her shoulder briefly and grabbed the largest peach she could see, "You're my hero. It feels like I haven't eaten anything for days."

"You look like you should eat the whole box," Maggie said. She'd been keeping an eye on Grace since Sophia died. It hit the new girl pretty hard. Grace was already thin when she came along, but Maggie could tell that, wherever she came from, she had a lot of food to keep her going. Now her skin was pale, her eyes tired and her bones just about ready to break through her skin. She needed to stop what she was doing and take time to look after herself.

Grace gave her a sly look, "Do you think I could?" She asked quietly, a cheeky grin rising.

"Don't tell anyone, but I'll give you two more when no one can see," Maggie and Grace made their way up the stairs. Grace took the first bite of her peach. It was heaven. She could feel her stomach writhe in joy. Two more would be wonderful. Maggie put the box down on the kitchen table and unzipped the pack over Grace's shoulder. Grace watched as she took slow bites of her peach. Two more peaches, as promised, were put in her backpack.

Maggie zipped it back up, "You're an important part of this group, Grace," Maggie locked eyes with Grace and she couldn't look away, "Can't have you wither away into nothin'."

Grace gave a small smile and nodded her. Maggie could see colour coming back into her skin already. If the girl wasn't going to help herself, Maggie knew she would have to remind her. "You can stay in the room across from mine. It was Shawn's room – up the stairs on the right." It didn't hurt to talk about him anymore. Shawn had been dead for a long time and she had come to terms with it and moved on. Grace would be able to do that too, in time.

Grace nodded, "Thank you." The hunter started up the stairs, skipping every second step, and put everything down in Maggie's step brother's room. It was a small room with a single bed, but it would do. It would keep the wind and cold out so it was good enough. Grace set up a bed on the floor of the room and dumped her things at the end of it, putting Daryl's things on the bed before heading back outside. There was work to be done.

To her dismay, Grace was asked by Rick to help Shane load the Hyundai with wood so they could start repairing things or building lookouts. Grace nodded and turned with a sigh, heading to the back of the house for some good old fashioned suffering best dealt with in silence.

The wood was heavier than Grace had anticipated. She struggled with the first plank and Shane shook his head with a small patronising laugh. The silence didn't last long.

"Though you was meant to be stronger than that."

"I'm not in the mood to be patronized, Shane."

"What good are you if you can't even lift a few bits of wood?"

"I'm good at kicking your sorry ass," Grace snapped, throwing the plank of wood she was holding to the ground. Shane stood up straight and walked over to her, puffing out his chest.

"What did you say to me?"

"I said I could kick your ass with my hands tied behind my back," Grace looked up at him slightly, her jaw set and fists clenched. Being confident in her own abilities was one thing but she might just need her hands. Grace would love the opportunity to kick Shane in the face. Maybe it would make him look like less of an idiot. But he had height, weight and strength while she had speed and, at that time, a weak frame. It would not be a good outcome.

"Uhh... Grace?" The two adults backed away from each other and looked to the small voice. Carl approached them slowly, eyeing them both.

"What is it, Carl?" Shane asked.

"I want to speak to Grace."

The hunter gave Shane a triumphant look and walked away with Carl. She knew how much Carl looked up to Shane and for the little boy to not come to his hero for help would have been the kick to the face Grace wanted to inflict so badly. His expression would have to do.

They didn't go out of Shane's sight, just far enough that he couldn't hear them. Carl didn't want him to hear. Shane would get mad.

Grace sat down on the steps leading to the back door of the house and looked at Carl.

"What can I help you with, little man?"

Carl looked around, mainly at Shane, who was giving the two weird looks and annoying glances. Mind your own business, you nosy prick. Grace looked to what Carl was holding in front of her, out of Shane's sight. A gun. "Promise you won't tell my parents. Or Shane."

Grace took the gun from him and checked the clip. All rounds accounted for.

"Jesus Christ," Grace muttered, "Where did you get this?"

"I took it from Daryl's motorcycle. If he found out I took it, he'd kill me."

No he wouldn't. Get angry and raise hell, yeah, but wouldn't kill the little man. "You didn't have it with you when I took Sophia and you back to camp, did you?"

"I hid it from mom."

"What are you doing with this anyway?"

"Dale," Carl's voice broke, "It's my fault that he died."

"Carl, why would you say that? A Walker got him, that wasn't your fault."

"I saw that Walker. It was the same Walker that scratched Sophia. I was going to shoot it. It was stuck in the mud... I was throwing rocks at it and stuff. But I was going to do it: shoot it right in the head. But it got free and fell on Sophia, scratched her... I got her up and we ran away and then we found you. If I killed it then Sophia and Dale would still be here and–" His voice broke again and he sniffled, rubbing his eye.

"No, Carl, stop it. Don't blame yourself. I should have gone back and killed it myself. This isn't your fault. I'm taking the gun back to Daryl and telling your parents what you did."

"You promised you wouldn't!"

"I did no such thing. You've put me in the middle of a family matter, Carl. I'm not your guardian."

"I promise I'll never touch another gun again."

"Don't be an idiot. We all need weapons, Carl. Everyone needs to know how to take care of themselves and–"

"I don't care! Just take the gun back to Daryl and don't tell my parents."

Carl stormed off. Grace shook her head and walked away to find Daryl. Shane had taken off with the wood already. Figures.

Grace found Daryl by the barn Randall was being held in. She had half a mind to go in there and shoot his brains out all over the walls of the barn but knew it wouldn't go down with the rest of the group, especially Rick, who was intent on setting him off to go on his merry way. Grace didn't like the idea, but it would have been what Dale wanted.

Daryl was being a busy bee and hammering away at the barn from on top of the roof. Grace briefly wondered how he got up there before calling out to him.

Daryl stopped and looked over the edge to see who was calling for him, although he had a pretty good idea already. Yupp, Dwyer.

"What?"

"So kind," she muttered, "How'd you get up there?"

"Support post has bars on it," he pointed with the hammer and went back to his work.

Grace found them and climbed it easily. She handed Daryl some wood to hammer an open window shut.

"So Carl came and found me earlier."

Daryl gave Grace an expectant look but didn't say anything. Grace pulled the gun from behind her and showed it to him. He gave her another look this time but snatched it away and tucked it into the back of his belt. Grace wasn't offended by it, but he probably didn't have to snatch. "Where'd you get that?"

"_I _didn't. Carl did. He went snooping around your bike with Sophia and found it, went out into the forest to be a little idiot and kill a Walker. It was stuck in the mud, apparently, but got out. They ran after it scratched Sophia. He told me to give it back to you because he thought you'd kill him."

Daryl let out a grunt and hammered a nail into the last board. He climbed down the post and they worked as a team to get the remaining wood back into the truck so they could go to their next job. Grace would drop it down to him and he'd load it up. It didn't take long at all. Daryl got in the driver's seat before Grace could get to the ground. She secured the tray and jumped in the back before Daryl took off back to the house.

Daryl kept looking in the mirror at Grace, the way she sat back against the wall of the tray, relaxed, her long hair flicking lightly in the wind. Grace caught his gaze in the mirror. She was too thin; her cheek bones were far too prominent, but a flash of colour rose to her cheeks when she smiled and looked away. Daryl looked away too and focused on parking the car towards the road. Grace jumped out and went into the house when Rick called over to Daryl from the veranda. There was some paper in front of him, probably a map. Daryl skipped every second step and nodded a greeting to the officer. Business had started. Daryl leant against the rail just as Rick did and watched his hand move along the map.

"We'll take him out an hour away, then an easy hour back – give or take. We may lose the light but we'll be half way home by then."

"Then this whole pain in the ass will be a distant memory. Good riddens."

"Carol's putting together some provisions for us, enough to last a few days."

Their attention shifted to the sound of a car coming up the drive way. Shane in the Hyundai, his favourite toy – well, aside from a gun.

Rick folded up the map and played with the corners. He tapped the edge of it lightly on the wood, "That thing you did last night..."

"Ain't no reason you should do all the heavy lifting." The two shared a look. Rick was genuinely thankful for Daryl taking care of Dale for him. It was indeed a weight and burden on his shoulders. He was sick of having to kill people in the group. Sophia and Dale so close together was too much.

"So you good with all this?" Rick lifted the map.

Daryl looked over his should at the approaching Shane. He nodded. "I'm gon take a piss." Daryl lightly threw the map back on the wooden veranda and went back into the house before Shane got to Rick. The hunter wasn't even two steps in the door when he bumped into Grace. She almost lost her footing but he caught her.

"Watch it, Dwyer."

"Watch yourself, Dixon," She snapped back playfully, pushing through the wire door. Daryl smirked.

Rick and Shane were talking about Grace. She heard her name before she went through the door. When she did, they both looked at her. Rick was leaning against the railing when he was talking to Shane, but stood up straight and placed his hands on his hips.

"Rick," Grace started, walking towards the two after shooting Shane a dirty look, "Carl came to me today with a... a problem."

"What kind of problem?"

"Before he went out into the forest with Sophia and got attacked by the Walker, Carl had been snooping about Daryl's things. Found a gun. He wanted to kill a Walker that was stuck in mud with it but it got free before he could. He said it was the same Walker that got Sophia and Dale. I was actually just coming to tell you, but I guess Shane beat me to it," Grace gave him a fake smile, her eyes filled with menace.

"I'll talk to him. Thank you for telling me."

"Sorry I didn't come earlier. I was returning the gun to its owner."

"Bet that's not all you did," Shane muttered, turning away from the two in hope that they wouldn't hear him.

They both did.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"What do you think it means? Why'd you take so long to come to Rick, Grace? He's been at the house all this time."

"I just told you, idiot; I was giving the gun back to Daryl and helping him fix the barn."

"Yeah, right, I'd bet you 'n' him were in there f–"

"Shane!" Rick yelled at his comrade, who scowled at him in return, "That's enough. Go board up the house. Now."

Grace turned on her heel and stormed back into the house, furious. Her knuckles were white when she released the knife from her iron grip.

...

"Shane don't know what he's talkin' 'bout," Daryl assured Grace, who was leaning against the truck. She'd told Daryl what Shane had said and he'd just grunted like he normally does and kept doing his thing, which at that time was stocking the truck with basic food supplies and bottled water.

"That's not the point."

"He's just tryin' to get a rise out of you, which, clearly, he did."

"Of course he did! How was I supposed to react to those accusations?"

"I don't get why you're beatin' yourself up over what he said when you and I both know that it ain't happened."

"Shut up," Grace grumbled, looking away from the hunter when she felt her face turning red.

T-Dog was walking towards the two love-birds, holding some arrows they requested. Why was Grace blushing like that? He didn't want to know, but T-Dog thought Grace looked a lot healthier with some colour on her cheeks.

"Only got so many arrows," T-Dog handed them to Daryl and he, for once in a while, actually looked pleased. Daryl nodded his thanks. Grace straightened when she saw Rick coming but kept her hands on the wall of the tray as if to balance herself.

"Ready?" Rick asked, giving Grace a look. It wasn't a bad look; he almost looked embarrassed.

"I'll go grab the package," T-Dog left, with good timing too. He saw the tension. Grace saw her opportunity. Although she didn't want the two of them to go by themselves, mainly because she was worried about her friend, she could always argue with them when they got back with 'the package'. Grace caught up to T-Dog in a few long strides.

They walked in silence for a few meters. Grace watched the way the gun in T's hand swayed when he walked.

"What made you go all girly and blush when you was with Daryl?"

"What?"

"You know what I mean, Grace. I saw you turn red. You can tell your ol' buddy T-Dog, can't you?"

Grace looked at her feet and kicked a stone, smirking. "I guess you are my buddy."

"You better believe it."

"It wasn't what Daryl said... well, technically it was, but not for the reasons you're thinking."

"I don't know what you mean, Grace," T-Dog said as innocently as possible.

Grace pushed him lightly and he laughed, "That's what I mean. Does everyone think that Daryl and I are..." Grace trailed off with a sigh.

"Fuckin'?"

"Sure, _fuckin'_," Grace imitated his accent and they both laughed.

"Personally, now don't take this the wrong way," Grace raised an eyebrow at him, "it looks like it. The fact that you can barely even say that you two're fucking makes me think otherwise, but y'know. I could be wrong."

"We're not! I saved Daryl from being Walker food and he brought me here. Before you or Glenn or Dale, he was the only person I could really trust or talk to for a while."

"And that's what made us think you two were fuckin'."

"You're so charming."

"I try my best for you, Grace." They made it up to the barn. Not a moment too soon. Talking to people seemed to have worse consequences by the second. "Yo, Randy, governor called: you're off the hook." The yanked at the lock after changing one of the numbers to fit the code and Grace pulled the door open. T-Dog stopped in the door way, his expression sunk immediately.

Grace frowned and looked under his arm. The room was minus a person. Bloodied handcuffs lay in the corner where Randall should have been.

"Awh hell no."

Grace took off before T-Dog could even turn around. Shane. It had to be Shane. There was no way Randall could have gotten out by himself and everyone knew how crazy Shane was. He was the first person to suggest that they kill him. He wanted Randall dead more than Grace did.

"Daryl, Rick!" Grace called out to them and their attention snapped to her. They came running in an instant. "Randall's gone."


	15. Chapter 15

**I do not own anything to do with AMC's The Walking Dead. I do own my made up characters. Enjoy.**

**FanFicGirl10: You'll just have to wait and see what happens ;) Here it is!**

**arrowsandkittens: Oh my God, you're an absolute gem :3 thank you so much! That means the world! I'm glad I've made such a likeable character.**

**MAR76: Yes. Yes, we can.**

**Thank you, fantastic readers, for taking time out of your day to read my story. It really means a lot. Now just review it and I'll be the happiest gal around **

_Killer Instinct_

Daryl slammed the door of the barn hard enough that it bounced back open. Andrea and Rick were looking inside and T-Dog stood with Grace to make sure she didn't run off into the forest to kill whatever came her way. T-Dog could see how angry she was, and knowing that she wanted Randall dead from the start was a good incentive to run out into the forest and find him. Attention soon came from people coming from the Greene household. They shouldn't have been told. It was none of their concern; they'd just get angry or upset or scared. They had to let the big kids handle this shit.

"Cuffs are still hooked," Rick said, coming out of the barn to analyse it again, "He must have slipped out of 'em."

"Is that possible?" Carol asked.

"It is if you've got nothing to lose," Andrea declared, coming out of the barn to analyse it like Rick.

"No, it's _not_," Grace snapped, "his hands would be red raw and worn to the bone before he got out," she crossed her arms and huffed, looking at Rick from under her lashes, "someone let him out."

"Grace is right," Hershel said, closing the door after everyone came out to show everyone the lock. Grace nodded her gratitude to him, though he didn't see it, "The door was secured from the outside."

"No one should have taken him out without consulting me."

"It's too fucking late for that, isn't it?" Grace snapped. She couldn't say that it was Shane outright. Rick wouldn't have a bar of it, the two being 'best friends' and all. Plus she had no real evidence that it was Shane.

"RICK!"

Speak of the mother-fucking devil.

"RICK!"

Everyone turned to see a bloody faced Shane. Grace loved how it looked and wished she'd had the chance to do it. Rick started towards his friend.

"What happened?" Lori called.

"He's armed," Shane called, "he's got my gun."

The way he was walking towards the group made Grace think that there was no struggle in a possible fight Shane and Randall had. There was no evidence of a real fight – Grace knew what happened during a real fight – except for a broken nose. If he was truly in a fight, he'd have faint bruises on his face and maybe even a black eye. And his knuckles would be raw or bloody. There was nothing but blood pouring from his nose.

"Are you okay?" Lori asked.

"Looks fine to me," Grace muttered towards Daryl. They shared a look while everyone watched Shane come towards them in horror.

"I'm fine. The lil' bastard just snuck up on me 'n' clocked me in the face."

"Alright, Hershel, T-Dog, get everyone back in the house. Grace and Daryl come with us."

The two hunters shared another look. Grace gave a half grin and whipped her crossbow from her shoulder. He mimicked her movement and loaded them.

"T," Shane called, "Imma need that gun." He came towards T but Grace moved in the way holding her crossbow in front of her chest.

"Are you sure you won't get it taken off you and _clocked in the face_ again?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. He ignored her and shoved her out of the way. Grace noticed T-Dog's expression and he wasn't impressed.

"Just let him go; that was the plan, wasn't it?" Carol asked. Grace snickered. Idiots; surrounded by idiots.

"The plan was to cut him loose far away from here. Not on our front step with a gun."

"But if you go out there you don't know what can happen."

"Get everybody back in the house," Rick called over his shoulder to T and Hershel, "lock all the doors and _stay put_."

The four most dangerous people in the group stormed off into the woods. Randall, if he was still alive, was doomed. Grace highly doubted it. A Walker would have gotten him by now, for sure. A dead body lying about the forest floor is easy pickings. Can they turn if they're already dead? Grace would have liked to kill Randall herself and was a little pissed off that Shane did it. She was convinced that it was him. No one sees Shane since he was putting the wood into the Hyundai then Randall goes missing and Shane magically comes back? Bullshit. Shane planned it all along.

"I saw him head up that way through the trees before I blacked out," Shane said, leading them like a king of an army. Grace hated it. "I'm not sure how long."

"He couldn't have gotten far. He's got a hobble, he's exhausted."

"And armed, thanks to you," Grace snapped at Shane. He gave her the dirtiest of looks.

"So are we," Rick retorted. He motioned to Daryl who'd been quiet the whole trip, "can you track him?"

"Nah I don't see nothin'."

"Grace?"

"I don't either."

"Look there ain't no use in trackin' him, okay? He went that way. We just pair up and spread out and just chase him down. That's it."

"Kid weighs 'bout nothing, is soakin' wet," Daryl turned back to Shane seriously, "you tryin' to tell us he got the jump on ya?"

"I'd say a rock pretty much equals in size so why donchu–"

"Alright knock it off. You and Grace start heading up the right flank; Shane and I will take the left. Remember; Randall ain't the only threat out there."

"As if we'd forget," Grace said. She was a little annoyed that Shane and Rick went off together, although thankful that she was with Daryl at the same time. They had each other's backs and she'd hate to know what would happen if she or Daryl went with Shane. He'd definitely lost his mind.

"Keep an eye on each other."

Daryl and Shane started walking on their paths but Grace grabbed Rick's arm before he could start moving. He looked at her hand and followed it, up her arm, shoulder and neck and finished at her eyes. She looked sad and concerned, but hid it under a hard expression and set jaw. Grace took her hand away held it towards him, her fingers curled slightly. He took it and squeezed it, silently saying I've got your back. She smiled and returned it, receiving the message. They nodded to each other and went on their separate ways.

It got dark too quickly. Grace hadn't realized how long they'd been walking for until the light slipped away. The only noise the hunters had made was the crunching of the twigs and leaves under their boots. There was the familiar chirping the crickets made that Grace welcomed. It felt like home. Like everything was normal again. Grace didn't get her hopes up that anything would ever be normal again. Everyone would have to do what they could to keep on surviving to see if there actually was an end to all of it.

Grace did manage to hope that she and Daryl saw the end of it alive and well and still good friends.

The night was getting so cold that hot exhales turned to steam in the air. Grace was too thin not to feel it. Her tired bones ached as the air bit at her skin. Daryl, in a singlet, didn't seem to feel it. They both looked towards a flapping noise. Either the two of them had gotten too close to a bird or something else had spooked it. They briefly wondered but continued their way through the trees.

Grace sighed, "This is pointless. There's no light; we can't see a thing."

Daryl nodded and grabbed a flashlight from his side. Grace pulled a face and felt stupid for a bit. Daryl pointed the light at the ground in front of them and they both scanned every inch of it. Nothing. Daryl's hand fell to his side and he made an angry noise, storming off in front of Grace. She followed.

Daryl continued to shine the light in front of where they walked while Grace scanned the area at head-height, keeping an eye out for Walkers or – by the slim chance – Randall. They ended up looping back to where they began, where Daryl scanned the ground for tracks more thoroughly now that he used the light. Back to square one, but you gotta do it right.

Finally they found some clues. "There're two sets of tracks here. Shane must have been out for a lot longer than he said."

"You don't believe that bullshit he spun, do you?"

Daryl shined the light near her face, causing her to squint but still managed to look at him. Daryl saw that she was serious and smirked, now following the tracks he found. The light was focused on the trunk of a large tree.

"There's blood on the tree," Daryl pointed out, the light following the trunk down to the ground, "More tracks."

"Look," Grace pointed at the top of the light on the ground, "They kicked up some dust there."

Daryl grunted, nodding to agree, "Somethin' went down." They kept walking forward, the smallest noises making Grace look around and scan the area. She wasn't nervous, only be cautious. Grace had Daryl's back and he had hers, she was sure of it.

"They got into trouble," Daryl said, causing Grace to look back and break her scan. She picked up Randall's gag and analysed it before a loud snap caught their attention. They turned in the direction but couldn't see anything before they ran behind a pair of trees only a few metres apart from each other. Grace could hear her heart pounding in her ears. She steadied her breathing and peered around the tree.

The silhouette of a Walker trudging by not even fifteen metres away passed slowly through some trees. Daryl whistled to Grace and threw the flashlight to her – she almost dropped it – and attached it to her waist. This was the worst possible situation: caught in the dark with a Walker. Who knew how many more there could have been roaming the forest at this time of night?

Grace rested her head on the tree trunk and looked up. When will this end? She looked to Daryl.

Daryl snuck a look around the tree. The Walker was coming towards them now. It must have heard his whistle. Dammit. Daryl gripped his crossbow and caught Grace's eyes momentarily. The crunching of leaves and twigs under the Walker's feet got louder. This was it.

Grace moved from her hiding spot with her crossbow aimed at its head. It was Randall. She knew it. Shane had killed him and a Walker found him. Before she could fire Randall knocked the weapon out of the way and pounced on her. She tensed as a reaction and the bolt stuck itself in the trunk of the other tree close to Daryl's head. He fired his shot but also missed. Randall shifted his attention to the new threat, a hoarse growl leaving his throat.

Daryl kept his crossbow in front of Randall to keep him out of reach. His jaw snapped and arms flailed towards Daryl. No, not now. Not after losing Dale and Sophia. Can't lose another one. Not him.

Grace dropped the crossbow and got to her feet, whipping the machete from her waist. She grabbed the back of Randall's shirt and attempted to pull him off Daryl, but dead people were heavy. Daryl helped her by kicking Randall off him. He snarled and grabbed for Grace. She pinned his arms down under her feet and leant forward to slam the machete into his head before he could resist it and throw her off her feet. He soon fell limp as blood oozed from his head. Grace felt weak at the knees. Daryl caught her in one arm before she could fall. She was inhaling deeply and didn't realize how dizzy it had made her.

Daryl pulled her away from the dead Walker and steadied her on her feet. Girl was shaking and not heavy at all. The cold would be sinking into her bones. Daryl found his bolt on the ground and loaded his crossbow, coming back towards Grace. She looked up at him with sad eyes and hugged him, burying her head in his chest. He aimed the weapon to the sky and patted her back with his other arm, slightly awkward.

"You did good, Dwyer."

"I couldn't lose you too," She said with a sniffle, backing away from Daryl and looking away as she wiped her eyes, "Had to save your sorry ass after you missed."

Daryl snickered. There she is. "You missed first."

Grace pulled her machete from Randall's head and let the black blood ooze off the end of it. Daryl grabbed the light from her waist and pointed it at the Walker. Closer inspections confirmed that it was Randall. The two hunters started examining the body. Grace had started it to find some evidence that Shane had killed him first.

She knelt at his legs and searched for bites and Daryl knelt at his head. "Got his neck broke."

Grace nodded and looked up at Daryl, "Shane."

Daryl kept analysing the head with a frown on his face. "Even if he did kill Randall, that don't explain why he became a Walker."

"Can people be killed and then be turned into a Walker when one of them finds the body?"

Daryl shrugged and rolled Randall over, pulling up his shirt and rolling up his pants. "No bites or scratches."

"And he became a Walker?"

Daryl grunted with a nod. The two hunters looked at each other. "How is that possible?" Grace asked. Daryl couldn't answer.

The hunters got to their feet and went back the way they came, leaving the body to rot. Randall deserved to rot. He could have killed Daryl. That would not leave a good outcome for Grace. Losing Dale was hard enough, but if Daryl was gone too… She'd lose it.

They trekked back towards the camp in comfortable silence. The house came into view when a gunshot rang out.


	16. Chapter 16

**I do not own anything to do with AMC's The Walking Dead. I do own my made up characters. Enjoy.**

**FanFicGirl10: Eh, they're alright. T-Dog can be pretty clever too sometimes, like in season 3 WHICH I'M WRITING ABOUT SOON WOOOOOOHOOOOOO . Ahem. Here's your update.**

**MAR76: Urghh I know. The whole fighting for Lori thing got so old so quickly. Like Jesus H Christ Shane shut the fuck up Lori's not your wife. Thank you very much. Here it is.**

**Thank you, fantastic readers, for taking time out of your day to read my story. It really means a lot. I really enjoy getting reviews so if you could take a teensy little more time out of your day to do that, it would be much obliged. **

**Awh shit we're almost at third season episodes! Hope you all enjoy the last chapter of the last episode of season 2: Beside The Dying Fire! It's a long chapter and I hope you love it. **

_Beside The Dying Fire_

Grace spun around on her heel and scanned the area. No, please not Rick. Let it be Shane. Grace ran towards the sound of the gunshot. Daryl reached out and tried to stop her but was too slow. She heard him calling out to her as she sprinted out into a clearing where the shot had been fired. There was yelling and crying but she couldn't hear much more from the air whistling and her heart pounding in her ears. It was hard to run with her crossbow but she managed. Her legs felt like lead and her knees started feeling weak again.

Not Rick. Not Rick. Please not Rick. Grace was meant to have his back.

On top of a small hill not too far from the farm, the moon broke through the dark clouds but barely lit up the scene. Standing figures came into view. Were they Walkers? It didn't matter, Grace would kill them. Was Rick a Walker now? Had Shane killed him? Who shot the gun? Did it miss?

No, there Rick was, as alive as ever, standing over Shane's dead body. Rick looked stressed. Grace heard crunching behind her. She whipped around on her heels and aimed the crossbow. It was Carl, who stumbled back and stared at Grace with wide eyes. He too had followed the gunshot. Grace lowered her crossbow and turned back around.

Carl looked from behind Grace, "Dad?" His voice broke.

Rick saw the two standing together. Carl had a gun. Grace had her crossbow. He looked back down to Shane. This was going to give off the wrong impression. It looked like Rick had attacked and killed Shane in cold blood and that's how Carl had seen it. Grace knew otherwise. Shane would have attacked Rick first, or maybe threatened him, considering Shane was lying dead on the ground and Rick wasn't.

Rick looked even more stressed now. Carl went to go to his dad, but Grace grabbed his shoulder and pulled him behind her. Rick got up and trudged towards them. "Carl..." Did he know what to say? Grace sure as hell wouldn't. Grace could hear Carl taking deep breaths and whimpers escaping his throat. She had no doubts that he was crying. Rick had killed the man that Carl saw as a second father. This would have gutted him. Rick saw his son crying, "No," Rick almost started crying himself, "You should be back home with mom."

Carl moved out from behind Grace and raised his gun. Oh shit.

"Carl," The gun was soon pointed at Grace, "No." Her voice was stern and her eyes were locked on his wet ones. The gun was shaking in his hands and his breaths became more uneven.

Rick took a step forward and Carl spun around to aim the gun at him. That's when Grace saw it. Shane. He was a Walker. He was up, blood smeared all over his face from his broken noise and on his chest from a stab wound. There were no Walkers around here when Rick had killed him. Shane had died from being stabbed and was now a Walker, trudging towards them.

"Rick," Grace tried to tell him but he ignored her, completely focused on his son.

"Carl, just put the gun down."

Shane was getting closer. Far too close for comfort.

"It's not what it seems. Please," Rick was crying now. He never through his own son would hold a gun to him.

The shot rang out and whistled past Rick. It shot through Shane's forehead and he fell to the ground. Grace kicked herself for not doing it. The father and son cried and held each other. Grace turned away and gave them their little moment. She calmed down at the same time, letting the drumming in her ears die off so she could actually hear. She turned back around as Rick called to her and they walked back to the house together. As Grace passed Shane she took his gun.

They didn't walk in a comfortable silence together like Grace and Daryl did. She felt awkward and anxious to get away. Something felt wrong, she just wasn't sure what it was yet.

…

"I'm going after them," Andrea sat on the couch next to Beth. She shook her head and got up.

"Don't, they could be anywhere," Lori got in her way, "And if Randall comes back we're gonna need you."

The door swung open and Daryl stomped inside. Everyone looked towards the door and got out of their seats. Daryl scanned the room. "Rick and Shane ain't back?" They sat back down when Daryl came into view.

"No."

"Where's Grace?" T-Dog asked, coming off the wall and his arms falling at his side. If that redneck let anything happen to her, he'd rip him in half.

"We heard a gunshot and she ran off."

"You let her!?" T-Dog came at Daryl but Glenn stood between them.

"I tried to fuckin' stop her but she ran off. I can't keep up with her. You and I both know that Dwyer can look after herself so crawl out of my ass."

"Stop it, both of you," Lori was annoyed that they were fighting over her, "Maybe Rick and Shane found Randall."

"We found him."

"Is he back in the shed?" Patricia asked.

Daryl snickered, "He's a Walker."

"Did you find the Walker that bit him?" Hershel asked.

"There was none; he wasn't bit. His neck was broke."

"So he fought back," Patricia concluded.

"The thing is, Shane and Randall's tracks were right on top of each other. Shane ain't no tracker. Randall didn't come up behind him. They were together."

Lori got out of her seat and quickly approached Daryl, "Would you please go back out there and find Rick and Shane? I have no idea what's going on."

Daryl nodded. "You got it." He was going out there to find Grace and Rick. Whether or not Shane was going to be there would be an interesting story to bring home.

…

The hunter walked with the father and son, slowly trudging through the short, damp grass. She kept her eyes focused on her boots so she wouldn't slip.

"You bit too?" Carl asked quietly.

"No," Rick answered.

"Shane was," Carl's head hung. No, he couldn't have been. There were no marks on him except the stab wound. He'd just become a Walker after he died. No bites, no scratches, no nothing. Was that going to happen to everyone else when they died? Grace kept quiet.

"That wasn't Shane, you know that."

"It used to be."

Silence; the only sound was grass beneath their feet and the chirping of crickets.

"Wh… what happened? Were you guys attacked?"

"It doesn't matter, Carl," Grace said quietly, "It's over now."

Carl ignored her.

"I mean, I heard a gunshot, but there were no Walkers nearby." He was slowly getting all of the pieces to the puzzle, even if he hadn't figured out where they fit yet. "How did Shane die?"

They all stopped and looked at Rick. He was just about to answer when they heard it: the hoarse moaning and growls. Their expressions shifted from sadness to horror as they followed the noise.

No. No no no not a herd no. Not a goddamn fucking herd no. A whimper escaped her lips. One or two were easy pickings, maybe even three or four, depending on how fast you were at killing them. Not more than one hundred. That was why Grace was terrified of herds. If they came to the house, they would kill everyone. She would die. Rick and Carl would die. T-Dog would die. Daryl… Daryl would die too.

"Oh my God, go go go go go." They ducked down slightly and started towards the house.

"Rick, what do we do?" Grace whispered, her eyes stinging as they became wet. She was scared out of her mind.

"Run to the house as fast as you can and get everyone out of there."

Grace didn't hesitate for a second. She sprinted as fast as she could towards the house as Rick and Carl hid in the shadows and went for the barn. It was lucky that the Walkers were slow. It gave everyone extra time to prepare. Time was of the essence. Her eyes stung as tears fell from her face and her lungs felt like they were on fire but her legs continued to take her to the house. Her whole body ached but she pressed on. She was close when Daryl came into view.

"Daryl, get everyone out!" She screamed.

"What's wrong?"

"There's a herd coming straight for the house."

Andrea and Glenn came outside when they heard the screaming. From there they could see the Walkers approaching the barn, small figures that slowly made their way towards them. More of the group came outside and saw the herd. They had enough time to gather some things and leave. That's what they had to do. They had to leave. "Why are you all standing here? We have to leave _now!_"

"Patricia, get the blinds," Hershel whispered.

"I'll get the guns," Andrea jogged back into the house.

"Maybe they'll pass like the herd on the highway, shouldn't we just go inside?"

"Unless there's a tunnel downstairs that I don't know about, a herd that size would rip the house down."

"Yes, yes it would, so we have to _leave._"

No one was listening to Grace.

"Carl's gone." Lori came out of the house, stressed.

"What?"

"He was upstairs but I can't find him anymore."

"He's out there with Rick!" Grace snapped. Everyone turned to Grace. _Now _they listened. Assholes. "They ran off to the barn and told me to get everyone out of here so that's what I'm going to do. Shane is dead, Rick is out there protecting his son, so you all have to listen to me. And I say that all of you get a gun, get supplies and _get the fuck out of this house_. Get the keys to the cars and take as many people as you can."

"I'm not leaving without my boy."

"HE'S WITH RICK!" Grace screamed, anger taking over all of her senses. Andrea brought the bag of guns out. "You will get a fucking gun, you will get as many supplies as you can carry and you will keep yourself and your unborn fucking baby alive. All of you, do it NOW! Daryl, Glenn, Maggie, T, let's cover them while they do it, okay? We have to leave here and we have to have enough supplies to last us until we find our next spot."

No one argued anymore. They were too damn scared to argue. The hunters slung their crossbows over their shoulders and everyone there armed themselves. Grace helped herself to a shotgun and another pistol. Pistols first, then the shotgun. Worst came to worst and she ran out of bullets, she could beat the shit out of them with the shotgun. Grace didn't plan on dying that night but if she did, she'd go down fighting.

Everyone got the guns they wanted and went inside to gather supplies. T-Dog and Glenn went straight for the keys.

Daryl stood at the end of the porch, watching the Walkers. Grace was right. There was no way they could defend the farm. They may have had guns, but there were too many Walkers for them to take out all of them. Their best bet was to run.

"Daryl." The hunter turned, "Got your keys?"

He nodded, "Always."

"Get your bike. We're going hunting."

"I thought you wanted us to leave."

"We can try to hold them off as best we can for as long as we can as they gather some supplies, maybe draw them away from the house."

Daryl nodded, finding his keys in his pocket. He looked back up to Grace. She leant forwards and kissed him lightly. They shared a small awkward smile when she stood back.

"Don't you go dyin' on me, Dwyer."

She snickered, "Hadn't planned on it."

They leapt over the rail and ran to his bike. It roared to life and they rode to the fence. The barn was burning bright and everything came into view. Rick and Carl must have been in there. It's not like barns were built to spontaneously combust, although the timing was wonderful. Daryl stopped at the fence and the two hunters fired away, nailing each Walker between the eyes. They fell to the ground but more just kept coming.

The truck, Hyundai and the RV came out from behind the house. Glenn fired rounds of his shotgun at the Walkers, the spray more often than not finding their heads and killing them as Maggie drove, attempting to keep the Hyundai straight and steady. T-Dog drove Andrea along the line of the fence and she fired perfect shots between the eyes, just like Shane had taught her. T-Dog whipped the truck around and drove back towards Daryl and Grace. They were as good as dead down there. Andrea kept firing as they got closer and provided cover for Grace to get in the tray. She hooked one leg over the side of the tray and pushed the other against it then leant back and held on. T-Dog drove like a mad man, although that was favourable at that moment. Together, Andrea and Grace put bullets in the heads of many Walkers, although it never seemed enough. Grace almost told T-Dog to go back and get Daryl, but she knew he wouldn't leave without his bike.

The RV was parked along the fence further along, closer to the barn. Jimmy's body was poking out the driver's window, shooting the Walkers that came his way. Daryl had moved further along the fence and kept shooting Walkers, not moving an inch away from his bike. The sound of gunfire got Grace's blood boiling. She was glad that adrenaline had taken over her fear.

She watched Daryl ride towards the RV. He yelled something at Jimmy and motioned towards the barn. Jimmy nodded and yelled something back as he ducked back into the RV and Daryl rode off. The RV then moved towards the barn, disappearing around the back. Brave kid. More gunshots, then Rick and Carl appeared from behind the barn, running and gunning down Walkers on their way. Jimmy was done for. If he hadn't come with them then the Walkers had him.

T-Dog had started shooting the Walkers on his side then started running them over. It did nothing except make the car slow down. Grace leapt out of the tray and sprinted for the house, ignoring T-Dog and Andrea calling out to her. She hadn't seen any of the women out there yet. She saw Hershel at the front of his yard, standing his ground with a shotgun. For someone who was against guns on his property, he sure knew how to use one. Grace ducked and dodged all of the hands reaching for her and made it next to the old man.

Lori and Carol came out of the house, looking stressed.

"You have to go, Hershel!" She screamed over his gunfire and her own. A group was heading straight for him. Carol went back inside and Lori screamed for her son, starting to finally help them kill the Walkers.

All the women made it out and Lori called for Hershel and Grace. Grace turned to go with them but Hershel wouldn't budge. "Hershel! We have to go!"

"You go, I'll cover you. I'll go down with my farm."

"The hell you fucking will!" Grace grabbed his shirt and pushed him towards the women. "You saved my ass now I'm saving yours. Get to the car and drive."

She pushed him and shot the Walkers coming towards her and the ones in Hershel's way. The women were screaming. Patricia was being ripped apart. The Walkers coming towards Grace shifted their attention to Patricia, who had become a meal for all of them.

Lori pulled Beth away from Patricia and towards the car as the Walkers pulled Patricia to the ground and feasted on her. T-Dog pulled up next to the women, running down two Walkers on the way. Lori and Beth got in the passenger's side and Andrea got out to find Carol, who had run off. She was corned next to the shed with a bit of wood in her hands, totally unwilling to fight them off. She had no strength and was scared out of her mind.

Two shots and the Walkers coming for her were down. Carol screamed and Andrea spun, shooting the Walker from point-blank range as if got ready to attack her. It fell on her and Carol ran for the car. As soon as she got in the tray with Hershel they left the farm. The Hyundai soon followed.

Rick and Carl ran for Grace, who was standing in front of the house reloading her pistol. A Walker got too close to her and she stumbled back. Rick shot it before it could pounce on her. Carl helped Grace up.

"Where's Lori?"

"She's with T-Dog in the truck. They've got Hershel, Beth and Carol too."

"Where are they now?"

"I saw them driving off the property."

"We have to go, Grace."

"No, I can't. Andrea's still here. T-Dog left her when he picked up the rest of them."

Rick shook his head. No use arguing with a woman. Carl tried to pull Grace towards the car with him and his father but she swatted his hand away. He cried as they ran for the car and left.

Safety in numbers. Patricia and Jimmy had already taken a fall for the team. They couldn't afford to let Andrea go too. Although annoying and highly opinionated at the worst of times, she knew how to use a gun. Her faults could be overlooked for that. Grace ran down the driveway, scanning the area for Andrea. She couldn't be seen anywhere but she could hear the gunshots. She was still alive and kicking, and hopefully would continue too.

A hand landed on Grace's shoulder and she screamed, grabbing it and leaning forward, throwing a Walker over her shoulder. She shot it in the head and screamed again. More Walkers came down for her. Why didn't she just go with Rick and Carl? It was a stupid idea looking for Andrea. Maybe she just felt like playing hero, but now the adrenaline was running out and her fear was rising again. She would get herself killed doing it and she wasn't ready to die. Andrea could hold her own. She had a gun and she was smart and stubborn. Andrea would live through this and get away. But Grace wasn't sure of her chances. It was night, she barely had any ammunition, her body was on fire and she barely had any energy left. _This _was the worst possible situation.

Grace screamed a curse when a loud roar ripped through the commotion. Daryl rode to her rescue, turning the bike around. Grace jumped on without a moment of hesitation. She snaked her arms around his stomach. My hero. My goddamn redneck fucking hero. Grace cried as she held on tight, once scared out of her mind but now happy she was alive and Daryl was too.

They followed the road for a long time. It looked as though morning was on the rise. They passed an area of discarded cars where a few more Walkers were around. Grace tightened her grip around Daryl as he manoeuvred them out of the way and to safety. Well, maybe not safety. But away from them. The bike's roaring engine comforted Grace. She steadied her breathing as they carried on along the trail.

Grace was nothing like a badass in that moment. She was like a scared little girl. It didn't bother her for one moment that Daryl had seen her like that. She figured he kind of already knew her faults. He'd destroyed her drugs and alcohol, kicking her addiction in the ass. He hadn't been scared to ask her about her family. He saw her get angry and scared just like everyone else would. And she was scared out of her mind.

After a long while, the green Hyundai came into view followed by the truck. Everyone was alright after all. Daryl zoomed out in front and lead the way. They found their way back to the highway, again skilfully manoeuvring his bike through the cars and trucks that littered the road. If they were to meet the group anywhere, it would be on the highway where they left Sophia supplies. Daryl didn't have to look hard to find Rick and Carl. Grace wiped away her tears in time as Daryl stopped the bike. Rick and Carl made their way over to the two hunters. Not long after the Hyundai and old truck pulled up along the road, both splattered with black blood. Maggie didn't wait for the car to stop before she got out and ran to her father. Lori and Beth got out of the truck to do the same thing with their loved ones. Before Rick went to Lori, he took Daryl's hand and shook it. Then placed a hand on Grace's back and nodded to her with a smile before running to embrace his wife and son. You did good, Grace.

"Where'd you find everyone?" Rick asked.

"These guys were zigzagging all over the road. Pretty good for an Asian to drive like that," Daryl joked. Was it the first time she'd heard him make a joke? Glenn smiled and shook his head. "Where's the rest of us?"

"We're the only ones who've made it so far."

"Shane?" Lori asked.

Rick shook his head, proving to her that what Grace had said was true. She looked momentarily crushed.

"Andrea?"

"She saved me then I lost her," Carol said quietly. Daryl gave her a concerned look.

"I tried looking for her before we left. I could hear gunshots but I couldn't see her at all," Grace said, folding her arms over her chest.

"We saw her go down," T said, leaning against the open door of the truck.

"Jimmy and Patricia went down too," Grace said with a sigh. Maybe she wasn't smart enough to survive after all.

"You definitely saw Andrea?" Carol asked.

"There were Walkers everywhere."

"But did you see her?"

"I'll go back," Daryl said, mounting his bike.

Grace took a step forward, "No."

"We can't just leave her."

"We don't even know if she's there anymore."

"She isn't," Rick said, "She isn't. She's… somewhere else or she's dead and there's no way to find her."

"So we're not even going to look for her?" Glenn looked pissed.

"We gotta keep moving. There'll be Walkers crawling all over here."

"I say we head east," T-Dog said, straightening from the door.

"Stay off the main roads," Daryl went to pick up his crossbow but Grace saw the Walker first. She gripped her knife tight and strode to the Walker, burying the knife in its head and returning. No one gave a shit, which was strange, considering they'd just met up after running from a herd, "The bigger the road, the more Walkers and more assholes like that one."

It was decided then. Daryl and Grace lead the way on the bike, with the Grimes family with Carol and T in the red Chevrolet and the Greene family with Glenn in the Hyundai.

It felt a lot better to be back with the rest of the group but no one knew how long it would be before they had to stop for fuel or for food or found their next camp. It could be days, weeks, months, a year? Grace wasn't keen on waiting that long.

A horn sounded and they all slowed and pulled to the side of the road. Everyone left their vehicles to hear why they'd stopped.

"You out?" Grace asked.

"Running on fumes."

"We can't stay here," Maggie said. No shit.

"We can't all fit in one car," Glenn said. Again, no shit.

"We'll make a run for some gas in the morning," Rick concluded.

"We're spending the night here?" Carol asked, folding her arms over her chest.

"I'm freezing."

"We'll build a fire," Lori's eyes fell on the two hunters, "Yeah?"

"We'll go looking for firewood," Daryl said with a nod, lifting his crossbow. Grace did the same with a nod, "Stay close. I only got so many arrows, how many have you got?"

"Three."

"That's not enough."

"Well we can't just sit here with our asses hanging out." Grace laughed. It sounded funny when Maggie swore.

"Watch your mouth," Hershel warned his daughter, "Everybody stop panicking and listen to Rick."

No one argued.

"Alright, we set up a perimeter. In the morning, we'll find some gas and some more supplies. We'll keep pushing on."

"Glenn and I can go on a run now and try to scrounge up some gas," Maggie suggested.

Rick held out a hand to stop her, "No, we stay together. God forbid something happens and people get stranded without a car."

"Rick," Glenn took a step forward, "We're stranded _now_."

"I know it looks bad. We've all been through hell and worse but at least we've found each other. I wasn't sure, I really wasn't, but we did. We're together. And it's staying that way. We'll find shelter somewhere; there's gotta be a place."

"Rick, look around. There are Walkers everywhere. It's like they're migrating or something."

"There's gotta be a place. Not just where we hole up, a place where we fortify. Hunker down – pull ourselves together, build a life for each other. I know it's out there, we just have to find it."

"What about Grace's house?" Lori suggested.

All eyes were on Grace. Shit. She hadn't even begun to think of her own house. She shook her head. "The Walkers would have torn it to the ground; they came from that direction."

"You don't know that for sure," Carol said, "It could be just fine."

"I don't care if it is 'just fine'. I'm not taking you to my house. You people ruin everything. I will not have the sanctity of my home ruined by you people. Nothing is sacred anymore but I'll be damned before I let anyone tear my house down right in front of me."

No one said anything for a long while.

"Even if we do find a place," Maggie broke the silence, "Will it be safe? For how long? We can never be sure. Look at what happened with the farm. We opened our home and it was destroyed; I can completely understand why Grace doesn't want that to happen. We fooled ourselves into thinking it was safe and that could happen again."

"We won't make that mistake again," Hershel declared.

"I don't care if we do or don't and I don't care if you all hate me because of this. We're not going to my house and that's final. There are too many memories I have there that I don't want trodden on by you people."

"Quit the 'you people', Grace," T snapped.

"Enough!" Rick demanded. He pointed to a stone wall, "We'll make it through the night over there and get on the road at the brink of day."

"Does this seem right to you?" Carol asked Daryl quietly.

"What if Walkers come through or a group like Randall's?" Beth looked distraught.

"You know we found Randall, right?" Daryl said to Rick, "He'd turned, but he wasn't bit."

Rick looked pensive for a moment, out of the world they lived in just for a short moment.

"How is that possible?"

"What the hell happened?"

"Shane," Grace said, "Shane killed Randall. Just like he always wanted to."

"And then the herd got him?" Lori asked.

A long silence from their leader.

"We're all infected…"

Grace's jaw dropped and tears formed in her eyes. She'd thought of all of the possibilities as to how Randall and Shane could have turned without bites or scratches but that had never occurred to her. How could it?

"What?" Even Daryl was shocked.

"At the CDC, Jenner told me. Whatever it is…" His voice turned to a whisper, "We all carry it."


	17. Chapter 17

**I do not own anything to do with AMC's The Walking Dead. I do own my made up characters. Enjoy.**

**FanFicGirl10: You're welcome; I would never split them up for long, especially when she would have had to take care of Andrea. This chapter will explain her thoughts about her house and the actual condition of it and… other things… **

**Arrowsandkittens: Thank you! I'm glad I've made a likeable character that fits in well with the storyline. Thank you so much for reviewing! Here's your update; the first chapter for season three! **

**Thank you, fantastic readers, for taking time out of your day to read my story. It really means a lot. I really enjoy getting reviews so if you could take a teensy little more time out of your day to do that, it would be much obliged. **

**Third season episodes, everyone! Although this is my own chapter :) Episodes will come soon. I don't know if you're as excited as I am because I loovveee season three. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy. **

_Comfort in Pretence_

"We let you into this group, accepted you as one of us, let you call some of the shots, and now you won't take us to your house – which would be a perfect place for us to live and _survive_ – all because you think we 'ruin everything'? Where the hell is your sense of humanity?" Lori had lost her shit at Grace. Selfish bitch, she'd never liked her from the start. "All you're doing is forcing us out onto the road because you're too selfish to let us live in your house. Things have changed, Grace; nothing is sacred anymore."

"The herd. Came. From that. Direction!" Grace had said it a million time. Why was this uppity bitch still getting in her face about it? Rick had shushed them many times and neither could afford to ignore him. There could have Walkers anywhere. Lighting a fire was bad enough, but the high stone walls gave Grace a little bit of comfort. They'd block out most of the light, but they still couldn't let the flames get too high and fall into a false sense of security. There were still gaps that light seeped through. "It's my goddamn house, so it's my goddamn decision."

"Then I think you should leave this group," Lori said, her eyes full of anger. She meant it. "If you're so persistent that we're going to ruin everything for you, then why don't you just leave?"

"You know I can't do that."

"Why not? You can't leave this group to live in your own home but you can't let us live in it either?"

"Yeah," Carol said, quietly supporting Lori's request. Grace gave the both of them a dirty look.

"If I hadn't been here you all probably would have died back at the farm."

"We saw the Walkers; we have eyes," Lori snapped.

"I'd rather you had half a brain to get the fuck out of there while you could," Grace snapped back, "Then maybe Patricia and Jimmy would be alive right now."

"You call this alive? We're as good as dead thanks to you."

"Would y'all shut the hell up?" Daryl snapped, sitting up next to Grace. The women stared at him with dirty looks. "Grace and I will help find gas and more food in the mornin', then we'll go and check out the condition of her house. If it's good and we have enough time to come back before dark, we'll give you a written fuckin' report of every little detail. Now shut up and get some sleep." Daryl lay back down and closed his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.

Tight fists, set jaw, Grace glared at Lori, who was looking high and mighty over the other side of the fire. Too bad she pregnant; Grace wanted to beat that look off her face. Carol just looked like Carol; feeble and depressed. Grace huffed and lay down besides Daryl.

The ground was hard and cold; she could feel her clothes starting to get wet. She cursed. Maybe she was better off on her own. She sure as hell did a magnificent job of keeping herself alive before she met this dysfunctional group. Her days were spent wallowing in self-loathing and blaming herself for not coming to find her family before the outbreak. That house and what was left inside were the only things she had left of them. Although they didn't always get along, they were still her family. It hurt that they were gone. It was different when she moved away because she always knew where they were and that she could come back to them when or if she needed to. But not anymore. They were gone and there was no coming back to them as they were before. Grace had no clue if they were even alive or not.

Daryl noticed her parted lips and furrowed eyebrows. Girl was thinking hard about something. He hoped she wasn't angry at him for making that decision on her behalf. He'd seen her angry enough to punch him in the face and didn't really want that to happen again. He'd never admit it, but it hurt. But he had to do what he could to get the two of them to shut the fuck up and get some sleep. Otherwise they'd be more crabby and a pain in the ass to deal with in the morning. And he'd be the one dealing with it.

The morning came slowly. Grace had been woken from a half sleep when Rick woke Daryl up for his watch. Grace sighed and shivered, the early morning air chilled her skin. The fire had died and cold ashes remained, providing no warmth for anyone. Daryl, Grace's sort-of human blanket, had left for his shift. Grace was too cold to get to sleep, so she sat up and tried to keep herself warm. Nodding off to sleep was frequent, but she woke up with each small stir from any of the other campers. She had half a mind to get up and leave, return to her house and sleep in her warm, cosy bed. Lori wanted her gone, so why not leave and return to her life before the present one, when she could do her own thing whenever she wanted and not live under someone else's rules?

Grace remembered why she hated everyone.

Shivering, she watched the sun peak over the horizon. The light hit her skin and instantly warmed her. They'd survived the night. That was always a bonus. Grace looked down from the stone wall; most of the group had already woken up, rationing what little supplies and food they'd stored in the cars. It wasn't much. Grace remembered how much food there was at her house. Enough to feed everyone for a month, and if they rationed it properly they could go two or three. She briefly wondered if it was all still there. She and Daryl would find out later.

Daryl received both his and Grace's food – someone had a brain and brought the pot and paper plates with them so it was powdered eggs – keeping them separate as he walked towards her. Before he sat down next to her, he put his share on her plate and threw his away.

He nudged her with his boot and sat down next to her. "Here," Grace looked up, her eyes following the plate as he sat down next to her. She took it without question; place the rifle in her lap facing away from the two hunters. "Careful; it's hot."

"Thanks," She said, blowing on it, "Where's yours?"

"Already had mine," Daryl lied, squinting at the sun. Grace didn't question him further and occupied herself with breakfast. He was glad she hadn't questioned him. He'd promised to keep her healthy and she was far too skinny to be healthy. He was fine without food, nowhere near as bad as Grace was. No one else in the camp was as bad as Grace – maybe Lori, but she was naturally skinny. And she was Rick's problem too. But nonetheless, if they found anything on the way to or from Grace's house he'd consider them lucky. He wouldn't withhold any of it from the group and he'd hunt everything he saw. Daryl knew Grace would do it too, even if she fought with Lori. There were too many other people in the group that she cared about to be stubborn about their argument.

Grace said something, but Daryl didn't hear it.

"What?"

"I asked if we had a plan."

"For what?"

"For when we get to my house. What happens if it's overrun or people have turned it into a sniper death fortress or it's been raided or–"

"We'll come up with a plan when we get there to suit whatever might be happenin'."

Grace nodded and finished her eggs. She threw away the plate as if it were a Frisbee. It landed in the grass a few feet away. She sighed and looked down, "I'm just… I'm scared."

"Of what? You've been through worse and made it. Who says this time will be different?" Daryl watched as Grace bit her lip and looked as though she wanted to say something but kept it in. Good. "Don't need you freakin' out on me, Dwyer."

Grace snickered. "I ain't freakin'." She imitated his accent poorly. "Just evaluating all possible outcomes."

"Yeah? Well stop it. Nothin's gonna happen to you while you're with me," He saw a small smile play on her lips, "We're too good a team to be beaten by some dumbass fuckin' Walkers."

Grace laughed and nodded, "I guess you're right."

"Girl, you know I'm right."

After a quick breakfast, Maggie swapped places with Grace as she, Daryl, Glenn and T-Dog left the group to look for gas. Carl wanted to come but Lori wouldn't let her son anywhere near Grace, which was fortunate, because Grace was sick of Carl's shit. The thing that got Dale and Sophia killed was a naïve kid. Grace didn't want him near her more than her mother did. Grace and Daryl worked on defence and lookout while Glenn and T siphoned gas. It was luck that Shane had left everything in the Hyundai and not taken it to be his personal vehicle. If he'd taken anything out of it they would all be fucked. As Grace surveyed the area in thought, she was quite glad that Shane was dead. She wouldn't make a point of hiding that fact, either. The only thing T and Glenn managed to find from inside the cars was a packet of smokes and gum. Grace pocketed the gum and Daryl took the cigarettes.

There were no Walkers the whole time, which was a relief. Grace was not in the mood for any of that shit. It was nice to not be covered in blood all the time – especially when it wasn't even her own blood.

Leaving the group and surviving on her own terms crossed her mind frequently as Daryl drove back to the camp to drop off the gas. Although she didn't want them in her house she was meant to have Rick's back. Having his back would mean having the group's back, every last one of them. Rick was disappointed with the news of no extra supplies but was content enough with the amount of gas they managed to score. The leader suggested that the hunters leave as soon as possible so they could get the verdict.

They left with a nod to the leader. The bike roared to life and they sped off on the highway, stopping to check abandoned cars for anything they could pocket. A few cans of food in various trunks or hidden compartments and more cigarettes, nothing to ring home about. Nonetheless, Grace stashed them away in the bags hanging on the bike. She noticed a zip-lock bag filled with orange bottles with white caps. She remembered all of the medicine and alcohol she'd hoarded and prayed that no one had touched her house as they sped towards it.

The house looked better than either of them had hoped. Although there were a few Walkers littered around the yard, which Grace and Daryl took the time and caution of shooting in the head just to ensure their safety, it didn't look as though they had fallen in that very spot. There were dry blood smears on the grass next to some of the Walkers, suggesting that they'd been dragged to that spot from the other side of the electric fence. Grace was fearful of what was or had been there. There were no cars anywhere around the property but there were tracks where the weight from the car made two long lines through the grass. Daryl had driven over them slowly and carefully, the engine off and pushing the bike along so it wouldn't make noise, making sure that he didn't make his own tracks. Grace's heart pounded at the thought of people going through her house, her belongings. They had no right.

The two hunters got off the bike and readied their weapons as they crept across the veranda towards the front door which was slightly ajar. She pushed it open slowly, knowing that it would not squeak. She made a point of not attracting attention, like keeping hinges oiled so they wouldn't squeak, making sure not to slam doors or cabinets, kept blankets over open windows or curtains closed constantly, low lights like small candles at night, keeping the electric fence up and running, although Walkers would ignore it anyways. Living by herself in those conditions was easy and she'd do it again if she had to. But bringing a whole group into the situation was suicide.

Grace stood inside the house, stepping lightly. She heard Daryl follow her and lightly click the door closed. There was a noise coming from the kitchen and some talking, but Grace couldn't quite make out what was being said or distinguish how many people were there. Maybe one or two, but she couldn't be sure unless she checked.

She stopped at the corner of the wall opening to the kitchen and took a deep breath, praying whoever it was wasn't paying attention. She slowly stuck her head around the corner. A blonde bit of hair was sticking up from behind the counter. It was a boy, and he was looking through Grace's hoards of drugs. Grace came back around the corner and signalled to Daryl. One person; she lifted her index finger and motioned around the corner. He nodded and moved next to her.

They both came around the corner and aimed their weapons, but the boy was still rummaging through the cupboard. Daryl rolled his eyes but kept his crossbow up. This kid would be getting the shock of his life.

And boy did he ever. The kid first bumped his head on the counter as he stood back up, rubbing it, when he saw the two hunters standing five metres in front of him. His eyes went wide and his heavily tattooed arms went for the gun but Daryl fired. The crossbow bolt missed the kid's arm by a centimetre and stuck itself firmly in the wood above the stove.

"Hey, don't fuck up my house," Grace shot at him with a sideways glance. She saw a smile at his lips. The kid watched with wide eyes, frozen, hands shaking and only inches from the rifle slung over his shoulder. The kid was solid and covered in tattoos and piercings. Messy, dirty-blonde hair and big, cold, terrified blue eyes.

"Hands in your pockets, kid," Grace ordered.

The kid hesitated, staring at the two hunters who were covered in sweat and dried blood. They were probably serial killers. Oh fuck, why'd they have to leave me here?

"Kid," Grace raised an eyebrow, more force in her tone, "I'm not in the mood. Put your goddamn hands at your goddamn pockets." He obeyed. Daryl went to him and took his gun, retrieving his arrow from the wall. "What are you doing here?"

"I-I'm looking for medicine."

"Why?"

"Because my mom is sick."

Grace's jaw set, "What kind of sick?"

"I don't know! I just wanted to get some medicine for her."

"Are you with a group?"

"Yes…"

"Where are they? How many?"

"At a neighbouring house about three-quarters of a mile west of here."

Grace sighed with disappointment. So the Harper family was gone. Grace hadn't even thought of them until that moment, "How many?"

The kid stopped and stared at Grace, twisting his head slightly in thought.

Grace frowned and lifted her crossbow to his face, "What's the matter, kid? Something on my face?"

His eyes widened and he shook his head violently, "I-I was just thinking that you look like someone I know."

"Uh-huh, cool. So how many?"

"About ten, maybe fifteen. I always lose count."

"Are they coming back?"

"No, they dropped me here and expected me back before sundown."

"Well then," Grace dropped aim and motioned with a thumb to the door, "Don't let us stop you."

"I'm not leaving."

"Excuse me?" Grace put both hands on her crossbow, lifting it again.

The kid frowned and took his hands out of his pockets, "I'm not leaving so long as you're here."

"We could always just put a bullet in his brain," Daryl suggested, speaking for the first time, "Take him outside 'n' leave him for the Walkers."

He gave Daryl a dirty look.

"That is always an option," Grace said, aiming at the kid's head. They wouldn't shoot him. "But I couldn't get blood all over my kitchen."

"_Your_ kitchen?" The kid spat, "This is _my _house."

It hit them both at the same time. This blonde haired, blue eyed, tattooed and pierced up punk now seemed familiar. The lines that shaped his face, every small bump, cut and scar became clear and recognisable. The brown haired hazel eyed woman standing before him was someone he knew, too. Someone he was once very close to and trusted with his secrets before she up and left them. It tore a hole in his being that he would never get back. The one person that he could rely on and keep him safe was no longer in his life and didn't show up when the outbreak happened. But there they both were, all grown up and facing each other for the first time in eight years. "Reagan?"

Grace slung the crossbow over her shoulder and, meeting him in two steps, pulled her brother into a hug. He was a foot taller than her; it was strange.

"I thought you were dead," Grace sobbed.

"You should have come back," Reagan said, his voice breaking, "You could have kept us all together."

"Why?" Grace asked, pushing her brother to look him in the eye, "What happened?"

The three sat at the table, although it was like Daryl didn't exist anymore. He couldn't believe that this scrawny, try-hard-badass punk could be Grace's brother. But then he remembered the family photos; Grace was the only kid with brown hair and hazel eyes, just like her mother, where the rest were blondies.

"Griffin and Skylar went with dad when the outbreak started to find more food. I stayed with mom and Bree here at home." Daryl saw Reagan's eyes start to water.

"That covers four kids," Grace said, counting her siblings in her head. There was one missing, "What about Gareth?" A tear fell down Reagan's cheek. Daryl watched and Grace's expression went from questioning to absolute fear.

"He was at Matt's house when the outbreak hit. We tried to call Tina but she wouldn't pick up the phone. But," Reagan sniffled and wiped away a tear, "He found his way home. He'd been bitten."

Grace bit her lip and sniffled, trying not to cry again in front of Daryl. "My baby brother's dead?"

Reagan couldn't look his sister in the eye, but he nodded, "We took him out past Mr. Henshaw's and buried him. Dad lost it after that." Reagan sobered up but Grace held her head in her hands and sobbed. "We all thought you were dead, and then we lost Gareth. Dad couldn't take it anymore and lost it. He tried to leave by himself but the twins wouldn't let him. Mom and Bree didn't want any of them to go so I stayed with them. I don't know where dad and the twins are because the group I'm with found us and took us in before we could even pack. Safety in numbers, you know? But for all I knew, my brothers, my dad and my big sister were all dead..."

"I came back as soon as I heard about it. I tried to find you, all of you. I came here and it was packed with supplies and everything so I thought you were coming back. Eventually I just… lost hope."

Silence, but only for a few seconds. The sun was quickly falling beneath the horizon and the lights were still on. Reagan couldn't leave now, neither could the hunters. They'd have to stay the night. Grace didn't mind so much, she thought as she flicked the lights off around the house and lit a few strategically placed candles. She'd found her brother, the brother she was meant to protect, who she was meant to teach everything she'd learned from her father. Maybe Michael had taught him anyway. Finding her brother was the best thing that could have happened. Any hope she had lost had returned. Reagan, Bree and Holly, although seemingly barely, were alive. That would be enough for her, for now. She'd found what she was looking for after she came back.

Just like Grace had helped Daryl find Sophia, he had helped her find her brother. Although not intentionally looking for him, Daryl had been there to help. He would always be there now.

Daryl watched quietly from the table as Grace and her brother talked and caught up on the last eight years as she made the three of them something to eat. Reagan had commented on the blood on hers and Daryl's clothes – to which they were then formally introduced – and how skinny she was. Daryl liked that Reagan was still looking out for her even though she insisted that she was fine. He even grabbed a cloth and insisted on getting the blood and sweat off her skin.

Grace and Reagan cried happily before Reagan retired to his room, which was untouched through everything. Grace had never gone into anyone else's room but her own. She said she was too scared to look.

Daryl was sitting at the table playing with a cigarette from the packet they'd found earlier when Grace came back out.

She sighed and sat down next to him, "Thank you, Daryl."

"Huh?"

"Thank you for making me come back here."

Daryl shrugged, "Still gotta decide whether or not it's safe to bring everyone back."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, the house is fine, but your brother said that his boys are stationed not a mile out from here. If they come looking for him we could be in trouble."

Grace sighed. She knew that already. But Holly and her sister were there. Reagan had to get back to them. Maybe they'd pick him up in the morning. "The house is safe; they won't come looking for him tonight. They'll most likely come back tomorrow morning."

Daryl grunted and nodded, picking up the cigarette. He shot her a questioning look as he put it in his mouth. Grace pursed her lips and shrugged, retrieving the lighter she used on the candles from her pocket. "Fuck it," She declared, taking another cigarette from the packet that lay on the table. Flicking it on, she lit Daryl's first and then her own, admiring the flame before it disappeared.

The two hunters took long drags and exhaled. Grace sighed, "It feels so good to smoke again." Daryl nodded with a grunt. "Although I prefer menthols."

"Pussy," Daryl accused, shooting Grace a sidewards grin. She made a face and punched his shoulder.

"Fuck off."

"You don't seem like the smokin' type."

"There's a type?" Grace questioned, flicking the ash onto the plate she'd eaten from, "Every teenager goes through that phase of rebellion against their parents. Alcohol, piercings, tattoos, smoking, sex, drugs; I took up…" she counted with her fingers and then held them up in front of her, "Half."

"Only three?"

"Yes, you smart ass. Alcohol, tattoos and smoking were my three. Although smoking died off."

"Then it was sex, wasn't it?" Daryl asked, clearly stirring.

"A lady never tells," Grace said, taking another long drag. Daryl nodded and did the same, mumbling something. "What were yours?"

"Honestly? All of 'em. And I ain't proud of it."

Grace laughed, "No one's ever proud of it. But it was what you wanted at the time so why regret it?"

"I didn't say I regretted it, I just ain't proud of it."

"Wouldn't they go hand in hand?"

"Nah, I don't regret the best sex in my life."

Grace laughed and Daryl smiled. It was nice hearing her laugh and being happy. It was a noise he hadn't heard for a while.

"I bet I could top it," Grace challenged, grinning as she twisted the end of her cigarette into her plate to put it out. Daryl looked at her with a confused expression. "Oh come on, we could be dead tomorrow."

…

Grace sat in Daryl's lap on the end of her bed, one of his hands rested on the small of her back and the other on her knee. She was still a little surprised when he'd agreed to it. Her hands found the hem of her shirt and she lifted it over her head, dropping it carelessly on the floor. Daryl's hands moved to her bare back and she shivered. They'd both forgotten this feeling; it had been so long for the both of them. But the feeling wasn't strange or unwelcome, just lost and forgotten after a while. Now they remembered how it felt and it was almost brand new again. Grace pulled Daryl towards her by the collar of his shirt and kissed him. It wasn't the first time she'd kissed him; she did it as they were running away from the Walkers the day before – that kiss was awkward and not really appreciated. This kiss, under far better circumstances, was not awkward or rushed. This kiss was just right, the right pace, the right amount of pressure and the right amount of urgency.

They parted so Grace could lift Daryl's shirt over his head. It fell to the floor too and they resumed. Daryl's warm hands made Grace shiver as they slowly ventured up her spine and found her bra. Practised hands unclipped them and slid them off. They found the floor, as did various other items of clothing.

This was an act that Daryl was more than familiar with and had never seemed foreign to him. He knew how to touch women and where to touch them and all the small actions he could perform to make them want more – and did quite a lot for himself too. So far, it was working a treat.

Grace fumbled with the belt at his hips but lost it when he wrapped his arm around her waist and lifted her and placed her down underneath him on the bed. She pulled a face as she started fumbling with his belt again; Daryl watched with amusement as she clearly started getting frustrated and flustered. As a challenge he went to the button of her pants, skilful hands undoing them quickly. Grace gave up on her task and made Daryl's lips her new focus. He registered that she'd given up and finished the job she failed as Grace did as best she could attempting to remove her pants from her position underneath Daryl. He assisted her when she got to her ankles. His hands trailed up her legs, the outside of her thighs and up to her hips to her underwear, trailing back down her legs and to discard the underwear.

In one quick movement his underwear was gone. He stood out of them and pulled Grace further onto the bed, crawling above her. He ducked down and kissed her neck as her hands raked his back. Every moan of pleasure, every time Grace's fingernails raked at Daryl's back, every time his grip tightened on her hips and dug his nails into her skin set them both off.

Grace had made a challenge to Daryl as a means of having sex with him, which she wasn't particularly proud of. Manipulating people to make them do what she wanted was never something she took pride in and made a point of not doing it. But this was different. It was true; they might be dead tomorrow. There was so much built up frustration and anguish inside her that formed when the outbreak hit that she never released properly. Although she didn't like the thought of manipulation, this time she could forgive herself.

For a while, everything that had happened to the both of them just seemed to disappear. It was like nothing had ever happened and they were okay with pretending that everything was normal.

They could live with pretending that everything was okay and nothing bad had ever happened to them. For once since the outbreak hit, even only for the night, they would be okay. Come morning, nothing would be okay anymore. They would remember everything bad that had happened and remember how unfair life was. Until then, they could relish in each other's intimate company, appreciate that they had someone warm and alive and familiar to hold on to.


	18. Please Read

Hi, all.

I'll try to keep it short and sweet. I think how I'm going in this story so far is great. Unfortunately, I'm not getting the reviews I want. I understand that I haven't updated in a very long time. I am working on chapter 18 at the moment (I have almost a full page of work, not a lot, but it's a start) and I'm hoping to get that to you in the next couple of weeks, maybe days, if I'm feeling up to it. The disappointing part about writing this story is that I'm not getting enough feedback as I would like. In the end I just though "eh, fuck it, if they're not going to put in the effort then why should I?" and that's why I've been gone for so long. In the end I realised that I can't exactly leave you all hanging, but I am still deciding as to continue this story and end it how I planned or just cut it short.

I cannot thank the people who have reviewed constantly throughout on each chapter or even just once. But come on, guys, I need to know if I'm doing a good job.

Please message me or whatever and let me know if you want this finished to the full extent of my original plans.

-EmmieRoo


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